The Long Road Home
by KeepingThemAtBay
Summary: It was a subtle tweak in time that would have profound effects in the future. The two young, Iron Hill-raised Dwarves would go when Dain chose not to, they would follow the Call of Home, brother and sister together, saving the Royal Line as they should. But for as skilled travelers as they were, they did not expect a journey quite like this. Fili/OC
1. Look What the Storm Dragged In

**Welcome to the story! I hope you will enjoy the tale I desire to tell and will bear with me as we both work through the wonderful world of the Hobbit. I welcome you with warm arms and without further ado, I present...!**

**The Long Road Home **

By KeepingThemAtBay

Enjoy!

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**Chapter One: Look What the Storm Dragged In**

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_Erebor the Greatest Kingdom of Middle Earth stands with her eternal rock and glistening riches beneath the crystal hewn lanterns. It is said to be the greatest fortress of Middle-earth, guarded and blessed with divine right and vast wealth. The great Dwarf Lords are powerful as the strongest army and sharper than diamond mail. It is a time of plenty and much gold._

_Many cannot feel it, only those who live near the center of the Mountain can, where the Arkenstone resides. A prophecy stirs and it is one that concerns me greatly for the future of the Kingdom. I am but a low and honorable noble, and I know not how far into the future this will pertain too, but I have been instructed to write it down. Hoping in time it will make sense to those who come across my words. _

_Two stones of blue light_

_Chosen by a valiant hand _

_Set what was taken; to what is right_

_Will appear to be bland_

_From a Time of Ashes _

_Fire &amp; gold_

_And the Great Decline_

_Sets all stone cold._

_A pair they will be when they arise,_

_To save what is left of Durin's Line._

_(The Lost Scrolls of Erebor, Author Unknown)_

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Our story begins in a time of developing turmoil hidden deep in the shadows of the earth. The first steps to war and greater darkness has begun to creep into all that is good in Middle-earth. We begin our tale with two unlikely Dwarves, delivering urgent word that will forever change the course of time. A single thoughtful act, as minuscule as it may be in time, will cause profound effects creating entirely new patterns from a single anchor point in the great web of time.

And our story has only just begun…

Lightning shattered the inky black sky into shards of boiling and festering clouds. The thunder rolled across the valley and echoed against the mountains like the sound of a war drums, reverberating deep into the mines and along stone ridges. The wind howled like a mad man, unrelenting and deadly as it threw about knives of hail and sheets of rain.

The dwarves who struggled for sleep in the Blue Mountains grumbled and cursed the storm from inside their dry caverns and sheltered homes. They wished for the racket to stop and leave their mountain in peace. Only a few warriors stood watch at the windows, their ingrained instincts telling them everything was never as it seemed. Storms such as these rarely brought about good – they often carried foreboding feelings and darkened the shadows for evil purposes.

The moon had long since disappeared from all sight. To the dwarves' knowledge it even failed to rise that day when the sun went to bed. With no natural light and all lanterns, torches, and braziers drowned in the rain, nothing could be seen unless the lighting provided brief and washed out illumination.

Two hardened guards, who happened to draw the short stick that night, huddled against the onslaught of nature. Their armor rang with the _ping, ping, ping, _of hail bits and their beards hung in sad soggy messes off their chins with rivets of water slipping under their leather collars, soaking them back to front. They wished for nothing better than to be out of their wet boots and under a stone roof next to a warm fire, forgetting about their troubles.

"We could have drawn a better stick, don't ye thing?" the first guard asked his companion, brushing the hail away from the crook of his elbow with a gloved hand. The ice pellets already blanket the floor and made it hard to see.

"Nothing better than standing while drowning," he replied and both guards laughed at their misery before falling into silence again.

At the end of the valley, a single struggling lantern sputtered in the rain. It was not visible by the guard's eyes, but they would eventually see it. It zigzagged back and forth in the air before being relayed by another station and another until it was close enough for them to determine what it was.

"By my beard!" exclaimed the first guard. "Who would be daft enough to travel in this storm?"

His companion peaked over the wall, wiping the water from his eyes. He made out the message and another guard on the wall replied with his own lantern. "It must be urgent, or they wouldn't let them past the tower."

"It's travelers, riding up fast. Look! You can see them on the main road," the guard with the lantern shouted, pointing in the dark.

A bolt of lightning cracked the sky again and two figures were spotted. They sloshed through the mud and clattered up the paved road, stumbling in the rain. Even from this distance it was clear they were pushing beyond exhaustion.

"Open the gates!" shouted a guard in Khuzdul. "Riders of pressing news!"

The drowsy gatekeepers jumped to their feet, moving to action on the slippery walkways. Their shouting was barely heard over another clap of thunder and the pounding of hail. The heavy doors of the gate creaked open, allowing a freezing gust of wind to tear through the hall and sputter the torches.

The front rider looked up on his steed, his eyes were blinded by the storm but he could see his destination. Even though the braziers had long since frizzled out along the front gate, the warm golden light from the torches under the alcove greeted them with open arms. He sighed deeply, spurring his ram to go faster and fighting the gripping hold of fatigue on his mind with renewed strength.

The guards at the gate were caught by surprise when two barreling rams charged through, as if a Balrog was on their very tails. Threads of water and hail pits the size of pebbles sprayed everywhere before the storm was trapped behind the closed iron and oak gate. The rams, unlike any rams seen in Ered Luin with their great curling rack of horns and stocky bodies, turned around and slowed to a stop. They dropped their heads and steadied themselves, steam wafting from their backs and moisture shoot from their noses with each heave of their flanks. Their riders slumped in the saddles and wiped the mud from their faces trying to adjust to the change of lighting and calm their racing hearts.

Dwarves stepped forward with shields and lances at the ready in a cautious stance. The travelers were younger than they expected them to be. Their faces were beaten up and worn thin, a characteristic of one who had been traveling for weeks and facing hardships. Their oiled cloaks only kept so much of the water away and they were soaked to the bone and water spilt out of their boots. The most peculiar thing about them was on their cloaks boar heads were embroidered into the fabric, a sign common to the far away Dwarf Kingdom of the Iron Hills.

Dwalin tromped down the stairs with the guard's captain, his eyes sharp and curious, while the captain looked perplexed at the whole scene. Neither knew who was coming in until minutes ago. They would never have guessed the riders to be just of Age or wearing a commonly seen crest of the Iron Hills. Visitors from their distant brothers had never made the trip this far in a long, long time, regardless of the kinship shared between them.

The taller dwarf struggled to dismount his spent ram. The hours of traveling in the rain and having a saddle rub and bounce on his legs was finally taking its toll. He had never ridden this hard and miserable in his entire life. He planted his feet and turned to the captain, fighting his fatigue.

"State your name and business Master Dwarf. What brings you to the Blue Mountains at an hour such as this?" asked the captain, sizing the lad up.

He threw back his hood to reveal a handsome face with short cut hair and a matted beard. He was a few years short of ninety but by the array of scars and his sharp eyes they knew he was experienced and a good fighter. "I am Omul, son of Osk," he greeted breathlessly. "And I have traveled here with my sister Rhul. We bring urgent news that Thorin Oakenshield will want to hear. We were told he lived in these lands and we have traveled long and hard to make it as quickly as possible."

"What sort of urgent news?" asked Dwalin, instantly on alert. They had to be crazy to ride this hard in any tempest, and usually any news delivered at this hour tended to not lie on the favorable side.

Omul fished in his bag and pulled out a bundle of oiled skin wrapped with a leather cord. "This," he unfolded it to reveal an old, torn piece of fabric. It once was a royal red with beautiful embroidery of golden thread along the edges. Now it was faded and tattered, but still well kept. Under it was a letter written by his father, directed to Thorin. "My father went with Thrain to reclaim the Mountain before he disappeared. He recognized the stitching better than anyone else in Dunland. He knows it to be Thrain's garment."

The warrior took the cloth from the lad and he lifted it carefully as if it were to disintegrate in his fingers. Dwalin's eyes became clouded with memory when he traced the recognizable patterns, thinking how _his_ king, Thorin, would react to such news.

"That's impossible, there's been no word of Thrain for _decades_," the captain said with disbelief in his rough voice. "How do we know you're not lying?"

The guards around them grumbled in agreement as they stood in a crowded group close to them. Rhul's ram backed up slowly and she pulled on the reins, trying to keep her eyes focused on the events going on around her.

"It is our word to never lie to Durin's Folk," said Omul, looking mightily frustrated. "We would not come crashing in if we did not believe what to be true. I will explain what happened, but first let us rest. Know this Thrain has been spotted in the wilds of Dunland. Rumor is he still lives and I bring you proof to such a rumor."

The dwarves had no association with the young travelers but they could hear the conviction in Omul's voice, even with his grogginess. The lad was sure of it, and there was to be more to their tale, but he was spent and could not tell them more. They exchanged varying glances with each other, questioning if it were true and what it would mean for their settlement and legendary leader.

There was a pause of silence and another roll of thunder, and then suddenly Rhul teetered sharply in the saddle and flopped to the floor, one foot caught in the stirrup of her ram. Her fatigue had finally taken hold. Her steed side step softly, too tired to even react.

A guard ran towards her and he checked her over to make sure she was okay and released her foot from the stirrup. That's when he noticed her soiled bandages up her forearm and the cuts on her face.

"You've faced troubles along your ways?" he asked. Omul nodded tiredly, his mind barely registering what was happening.

The captain looked at the lass with a stunned expression; he had not been expecting that. He cast a look at her brother who looked like he wanted to run over and check her, but his feet were too heavy to even move. The captain's mind was boiling with questions and he saw the same look on Dwalin's face.

"Dwalin, I know you want more answers tonight," the captain said softly to the older dwarf. "But we must let them rest. We will get no more answers tonight."

"Give them a place to rest tonight," said Dwalin sounding softer than his usual manner. He pocketed the fabric carefully after re-wrapping it in the oiled skin. "I will inform Thorin. He will want to hear the rest of their story in the morning."

Omul watched as the big warrior lumbered off deeper into the mountain. The guards retook their posts and rumor quickly began to speculate about the Ironfoots when they left, the rest of their watch would not be as boring anymore. A few dwarves helped the siblings to their rooms and led their animals to the stables, telling them they would be able to retrieve their bags in the morning.

One dwarf carried Rhul to the Healing House to have her checked over and her arm redressed. She was quickly checked in and given a set of dry clothes and left to rest.

Another dwarf led Omul to a room not far from the Healing House. He was only a few years older than Omul and he reassured him that he would be able to see his sister as soon as possible, but now he needed to rest. A dwarrowdam appeared and handed off a pair of dry clothes with a draught to help him sleep. The guard passed them to Omul wishing him a speedy recovery.

"You'll be the talk of the Mountain before you know it," the guard quietly said before closing the door.

Omul heard the comment and he nodded absentmindedly, knowing to be true. He automatically redressed in his new clothes, leaving the old ones in a pile on the floor. He flopped into bed with a low groan and sleep swiftly over took him without another thought.

That night as the storm finally broke in the wee hours of the morning, something began to change. It was a subtle tweak in time, unnoticeable by any who would look back on it. The arrival of Omul and Rhul on that night set into motion many events that would change the course of history. They were another thread added, not yet weaved in and tied with the lives of the Dwarves, but history had yet to be set in motion. The picture was not yet completed.

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**[Updated 3/21/14] Here is the "hook" chapter of the story and all events in the first few chapters take place before the Quest for Erebor beings. It gives time for me to flesh out my characters and the originals to interact with the OCs in the first few core chapters. In this fic it is my goal to focus on what is important for the time line and not get side-tracked with every little detail because I have 3 movies and beyond to cover. Read on reader! And leave comments always, when you can.**


	2. The Traveler's Word

**Explanations from Omul and Rhul and why they are here in the Blue Mountains.**

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** Chapter Two: The Traveler's Word**

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No one disturbed the travelers in the morning, the healers had checked them over and said a good night's rest would be the best cure. Dwalin asked if they would be up to discuss their urgent news with Thorin in the morning and the healer said they would be.

"They'd be as stiff as an unoiled hinge in the morning though," the healer laughed. "But they're well weathered travelers, from what I can gather. I would say they will be up to talking, just let them rest and come in on their own time."

Dwalin passed the news on to Thorin. He had been surprised to see the shred of fabric and the rumor that went with it the last night. He was eager to hear more of the tale.

The raging tempest finally broke in the early hours of the morning, leaving behind a peaceful silence and a moment to snooze before most dwarves arose. Omul awoke to late morning light in his room. His back was as stiff as a board and his hips and thighs ached and burned with a mild case of chafing and traveling sores.

The bed he slept in was stiff with well-worn sheets and a flat pillow but it was better than a bed roll. His clothes were strung up to dry in front of a small hearth and his knives and cash pouch sat on the small table next to the bed.

Memories of the night before crashed through his mind and he berated himself for acting so stupid and blindly racing through the night like that. He could have been injured or his sister killed while traveling through such a tempest.

Omul stood in his socks and stretched his neck and back with a grunt before locating his boots. He knew he was reckless but in his heart he knew he couldn't stop, he wasn't allowed to stop. It was a strange feeling and he did not appreciate it.

He cinched his boots and looked out the window, thinking about how he was feeling. Something had changed in him when he arrived through the gates to the point where he hadn't felt like this in forty years. After traveling aimlessly for a long time, switching from path to path with no real destination in mind, he knew he was finally on the right track for what he had been looking for, in a spiritual kind of sense.

He put on his own, now dry though still dirty clothes, on his person and left the bare room with a stiff gait and borrowed clothes hastily folded on the bed. Omul moved down the hall, looking for the entrance to the Healing House. The entrance wasn't far, it face directly into the main corridor of the mountain and stood across from the armory and training wing for convenience.

The House was built into one of the cliff faces of the mountain with most of the ward having outward facing windows to allow fresh breezes to cure the scent of illness or injury away in times of war. Omul stopped himself when he reached the door way to the House because just around the corner from the ward were the kitchens busily preparing what meat and bread they traded for from the farmers close by. His stomach growled angrily, reminding him he hadn't eaten in over a day or two.

Omul strode in, ignoring the kitchen entirely. He needed to find his sister.

The House's ward was rather cheerful, in a dwarvish kind of way. It had beautiful carvings of dwarves holding pitchers and herbs with their armor at their feet and bandages over their arms along the wall. It was the dwarves way of saying to be proud of the injuries they could survive and to live to fight another day.

"What can I help you with, laddie?" a middle-aged dwarf asked, he had an apron and an empty satchel swung over his shoulder. He was off to the stores to collect what herbs and bandages they needed to restock.

"My sister," explained Omul, coughing to clear the grogginess in his throat. "She was brought in last night, dark blond hair, fairly young, with an injured arm."

The dwarf's eyes lit up with recognition. "Aye, I treated the lassie this morning. Never complained like most dwarves 'er age would. Quite a change it was, especially with Dís' boys runnin' around and gettin' into all kinds of trouble. Ye tell 'er arms fine and to keep it bandaged and clean for the next few days."

After that, he pointed Omul in the right direction where to go. Even told him breakfast would still be warm if they wanted it. At the mention of breakfast, Omul's stomach growled again and the dwarf smiled and went off on his way, humming a tune and marching outside.

Rhul had been given her own room in the ward since she was a dwarrowdam and her privacy was respected. He was glad he didn't find her resting on one of the many cots that lined the room. He knocked twice and entered once she said so.

She was already redressed in her own clothes and her dark blonde wavy hair had yet to be tied back in her usual traveling braid. She was examining a tear in her sleeve that matched exactly with the cut on her arm. She was told the scrape would scar if she did not take good care of it.

"I take it you've been up for a while," Omul greeted in the best way most brothers would.

"You know I'm never one to sleep in much," she said a smile turning up her lips.

"How are you?" he asked, taking a seat in a chair and groaning softly. She sat on the bed, one foot tucked under her and began to tie her hair back in a couple of braids.

"I've been better, I feel fit enough to move about and finish up our priority business," she said, trying to gauge how she actually felt. "I wouldn't mind a day's rest though. I can't believe we actually made it here in once piece."

Her brother sighed, shaking his head. "It was careless of me to lead us onward through that storm. I could have gotten us killed."

She placed a hand on his arm, calling his attention to her gray blue eyes. "Don't linger on what was done, Omul. You mustn't worry; we've been through much worse before. And besides, whatever would have happened I would have followed you regardless. We stick together." She bumped his hand and he chuckled, grabbing hers between his calloused palms.

"Always the optimistic one, aren't you?" he said, mirth dancing in his eyes.

"Someone needs to be it with you around, Mister Seriousness. You always feel like you have to get things in order and it has to be as finely crafted as gemstones."

"Oh don't go picking on me! You're a lot like that too, Rhul."

"But I know when it's needed," she leaned back and shot him a smirk.

"They've treated you well here?" he asked, looking around.

"Yes, from when I've been awake."

Omul smiled. Whenever they would stay a night in a dwarven settlement, or even back home, most dwarves would give her extra attention because she was a Dwarrowdam. She didn't ask for the extra attention but she also didn't object to it either. With few dwarrows in the population, every one of them was protected and cherished and looked after in their culture. It had always been that way since the beginning.

"You frightened me when you fell of Kip last night," he said, referring to her ram she road.

"I merely couldn't stay seated any longer," she said. "Hopefully they were paying more attention to you than they were me."

"Aye, they probably were, with the news I had to tell them," he said, leaning back in his chair.

He remembered how his father came rushing into their house not a two months ago, telling them of his finding in the woods. He would have ridden to Ered Luin himself, but he had pressing matters at the Iron Hill Outpost and felt it would be good for his children to be tested. He trusted them to see it through without delay.

Rhul grabbed her jerkin and pulled on her boots over a pair of fresh socks. "I'm famished, did they tell you where to find some food here?" she asked.

Omul nodded and stood up, ready to go searching with her through the ward and kitchens.

She grabbed her scarf, a beautiful weaved and beaded accessory that was designed to resemble a beard from a distance. She wore it everywhere when they traveled among the world of Men. It kept her shielded from prying eyes.

The ward was empty for the most part, besides one of the only dwarrowdams moving in between the beds changing sheets. "We need to find Thorin and his lieutenant, they've most likely been waiting for us to rise and recover," explained Omul.

"Which allows curiosity to stir if we take much longer," she said with a slight grumble. "I'm not one to like much attention from overly curious dwarves. We told our father that we would deliver the news and then head back home after gaining supplies and making a few trades."

"Yes, but considering recent developments, they are going to want to hear the rest of our tale. About the recent dangers we encountered just outside their borders. There will be more than curious towards us after hear what else we bring word of," he laughed.

Rhul flapped her hand at him, brushing away his point. She already understood that, and she just needed to talk for a minute. "Two dwarves from the Iron Hills, one not even of Age, traveling across the world on errands," she mocked. "They'll call us crazy, blame our father for this insanity! From their point of view we're too young and inexperienced to the world."

"Then we'll prove it to them," he said.

"Which is why we are going to tell Thorin everything so he can understand exactly what we are doing here and why we were allowed to go in the first place."

"I didn't plan on having it any other way. 'Honesty is the best policy for travelers among Durin's Folk,' father would say, especially for dwarves without a reputation amongst the masses. Since we come from the _Iron Hills _it will put us in better standing with these folks."

They stopped talking and listened to a dwarf come tromping down the hall to only turn into the kitchens. He was laughing merrily with a friend.

"It would be a nice to stay for a while," suggested Omul, looking around the room and relishing in the shade of mountain stone.

"A break from traveling would be enjoyable," she agreed. "If we stay to long you know there will be lads getting the idea to ask for my hand. I may not be of Age just yet, but that doesn't stop them. Unpleasant things, you're lucky you don't have to deal with them. I'm more looking for my One."

"You most likely will not find him here, Rhul," he said and turned to face her. "Or anywhere for that matter, you might as well accept a proposal."

"That is why I travel with you! I now search the many settlements of our great people for love," she laughed at her silly and exaggerated voice. "I sound like some sappy Dwarrow tale. Besides, we've never visited the Blue Mountains before, and luck can be found in the strangest of places, Omul."

"_It sure can," _thought Omul, thinking back on that feelings he was experiencing.

"Buck? What buck are you looking for in this place?" An old dwarf with an ear trumpet asked. He just appeared from a room and only caught the end of their conversation.

He had a gray curly mane of hair and a large peak-like noise and he was hard at hearing and discerning the correct words said. After a head scratching conversation asking where breakfast would be served– because everyone was confused for a moment – he led them to the kitchens exclaiming why didn't say that in the first place.

The siblings quickly dug into their food. It was a small meal of warm, thick soup, bread and an apple and it filled their starving bellies. They quickly finished the entire pot off.

One of the cook's helps stepped up when they were ready to leave and said he would lead them to Thorin's office room. A message came in earlier asking if they had recovered from last night and were ready to present their news.

The young Ironfoot's were grateful and they slowly followed the red-haired dwarf out of the Healing House and into the great hall. They were eager to get a move on.

Ered Luin had all the signs of a growing village transforming into a city. Chiseled stone pillars rose towards the ceiling, nearly finished in the beautiful blue granite. Grander halls grew slowly beneath the mountain by careful planning and in phases.

The mines spread like a network hives, mattocks and pick axes ringing as the forgers and smithies banged and clanged through the day. From the many storage rooms and cellars dwarves saddled up to travel to the nearby farms of men for trade. They had silverwork and building contracts ready to be agreed upon for next year's harvest and furs.

It was a place of prosperous work and growth. It was home for many of the younger generation and shelter for those with gray beards from the greater enemies of the dwarves.

Compared to the dull colored fabrics of reds, blues, yellows and browns the dwarves favored, the Ironfoot siblings stood out amongst them. Their skin riding jackets, tough wool clothing, and leather enforced bracers, boots and the seat of their pants held a very distinct red hue with part of the leather tanned to a lighter color. Their belts and the cuffs of their jackets had faded elk etchings along with the cloaks embroidered with a boars head. Their clothes were the works of a fine craftsman. Rhul spent much of her time perfecting her skills and she took great accomplishment in her works.

"Even though we may travel everywhere, we still dress to impress," she would say to her brother in a joking matter. "We are not mere travelers or merchants, but skilled dwarves of fine trade. And you a warrior."

Omul was the leader and warrior of the two. He was leanly built with hidden strength and fast reflexes. He was calm and collected, a good listener but passionate in protecting and defending what he loved and knew to be right. He carried his scars with pride, understanding the history and lessons learned behind each one, and he loved his sister and his service he rendered to others. He was honest and humble, always wanting to what was right.

Rhul was courageous and kind, with a loving heart and compassion to many. She understood others hurt and sought them out when they were lonely and she excelled at beauty even with her rougher exterior. She was never willing to give up and would always at least try. She was lean like her brother with quick feet and faster hands. She was quick sighted and clever giving her an advantage to outsmart her opponents.

The two of them walked to show their personalities. They had been trialed, tested, and faced hardships and the dwarves noticed they were not the youngsters they all thought them to be. They did not carry the same burden the older generation did of having their homeland taken from them, and they did not show it either in their grooming. In a lot of ways, the resembled hope, even if the gray beards would not want to admit it.

They arrived at a spruce door set with a brass handle and trimming. Inside the room there stood a solid spruce desk with a simple comfortable chair and a window to the right looking out on the valley. Other chairs were also in the room in the same simple fashion. Even in simple fashion, each work was intricately carved and crafted just not overly lavish.

A weapons rack hanged with varying swords and axes of importance to the owner and a book case decorated the opposite wall of the window. Old bound books, parchment scrolls, contracts, letters, and maps peaked out from the shelving.

The office held the status of nobility and a touch of longing for greater things of the past. From what was known of Thorin Oakenshield it suited him in a good way but not perfectly for his status.

Thorin Oakenshield, Exiled and current King-Under-the-Mountain, stared out the window of the room with his pipe in his lips and a thoughtful expression in his icy blue eyes. He slowly puffed on it as a late spring breeze fluttered through the portal, carrying the scent of his pipe smoke through the room. It was a mixture of Old Toby, hickory and pine.

Dwalin had taken residence on a chair to the right of Thorin's and he sharpened his knife with a whet stone, looking impatient. Or maybe it was just his natural expression, they did not know.

The siblings entered and took all of this in a glance before finished with a bow and a curtsy of respect when the doors closed behind them.

"Omul, son of Osk, and Rhul, at your service," they greeted, feeling that they should be the ones to introduce themselves.

"I see it that you are well rested," said Thorin, turning to look at them. "I was told you bring news of great importance. Now tell me, what brought you to Ered Luin in such a hurry during last night's storm?"

Omul looked at each of the dwarves before he spied the piece of fabric he had given Dwalin the night before on the desk. The letter had also been opened, and he knew Thorin would want to hear the full tale from his own lips.

He took a seat after Thorin inclined his head to do so. Rhul sat next to him and looked to her brother to see where he would go.

"Our tale is a long one and we will answer any questions you have," he began, his thick Iron Hill accent breaking the silence. "To answer your first question, we were seeking shelter after we were unexpectedly caught in the storm. Thanks to my limited knowledge of the area, I thought we were closer to your settlement than we really were. It was our original intention to arrive this morning but Goblins had been on our trail for several days, forcing us to run and arrive earlier. That storm was our best chance to lose them when they caught up with us yesterday morning."

"And why were goblins on your trail? Were you causing mischief among them?" Thorin asked, taking a seat in his chair and setting his pipe in a bowl.

"We do no such things; goblins, as we have learned, are best to be left alone. They ambushed us a few nights ago and killed our ponies. We knew the goblins would be back since no game had been spotted in the area.

"Our camp was situated in a tight crevice along the cliff face to shelter us from the wind. They had us surrounded before we knew it. We took our leave through some bloodshed and saddled our pack animals when the massive storm was on the horizon. Goblins can stand a drizzle but they fear giant and fierce storms."

"They lost our tracks when the storm picked up and we may have drawn them to closer to your lands. It was beginning to turn dark when we arrived at a valley peaked on either side with two giant stones. It was too dark to find a place to rest and we knew your Halls had to be in the vicinity."

"It wasn't our intention to draw them in. We hope these vermin will not be an inconvenience to you," apologized Rhul.

"That is not our worry now, we can handle whatever comes our way," Thorin leaned forward and looked Omul straight in the eyes, searching for the truth. "Dwalin informed me that your father spotted Thrain in the wilds of Dunland. Tell me, how is this possible?"

"I take it you have read my father's note."

"I recognized your father's name and the loyalty he possess. I knew him in my days of youth. He is a loyal dwarf and an honest one if my memory does not betray me. He wrote briefly about the Battle of Azanulbizar and the is it possible Thrain survived?"

Omul pulled a knife out a sheath hidden in the back of his coat. The knife was thick and heavily inscribed with runes along the blade. It was not any usual knife because it carried significance and status regardless of how old it was. Thorin's eyes widened slightly at the sight and Dwalin leaned forward even more curious than before.

"Thrain's royal guards' blade," breathed Dwalin, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Where did you find this?"

"We come from a lesser noble line of Erebor, commonly referred to as the Stonehides," said Rhul with great admiration in her voice. "Our father was there, fighting alongside all of you."

"It was given to my father before that dreadful battlefield. Before marching on our sacred halls, one of Thrain's guards was injuring in a cart accident. Osk was right beside him as he passed away. The guard was able to see something in him and he handed him his knife and commanded him to protect Thrain if he was ever called on to do it. Osk swore on his honor, not wanting the dwarf's death to be in vain and he followed Thrain into battle."

His father's stories entered his mind. Omul could see the blood, the fear, and the giant Orcs crawling over the stone fields of Azanulbizar to slaughter all who opposed them. The stories, as gruesome as they were, gave him nightmares in his youth; he could only imagine what it would be like to actually live through it.

There was a dense break in the conversation and no one looked each other in the eye. Omul picked up where he left once he reigned in his memories. "After the beheading of the King, Osk followed Thrain through the masses as well as he could with another guard. But they were separated from him and they watched Thrain face down the Pale Orc."

Thorin's face turned pale, realizing what his father had done at that time.. "What happened to my father after the battle? He never returned and we could not find any sign of him. I searched for days amongst the slain," he said as a slight bitterness entered his voice. "There was no sign of him."

"Our father does not speak of it, but they watched as Thrain was carted off, unconscious by orcs. He retaliated furiously with what was left of the guard when you lead the charge, but they lost sight of him.

"When the battle was over, and mob of orcs escaped, my father remembers seeing him taken away. They tracked his trail for days, finding he was still alive, but never being able to catch up in their battle weary state. That was till the trail went cold."

"The guards knew Thrain to be alive and in captivity, why else would the Pale Orc not kill him?" said Rhul, posing the question they were all thinking in a soft voice. "No sign of him has been heard for a few decades and many of the old guards had left long ago. But our father kept searching, hoping to find something. And he did, for the proof is right in front of you. Even though he had only been a part of Thrain's company for a few weeks, he still holds true to his promise.

"He recognized the embroidery, gave it to us and told us to deliver it to you. He knew it would be important, a closure for you to know Thrain was somewhere and maybe at some point may be alive and well."

Thorin was quiet for a moment, letting it sink in. Dwalin looked thoughtfully at the two young dwarves, silently thanking them for their bravery.

"The journey was has not been easy one, in the amount of time we completed it," said Omul. "We only ask for a place to stay and recover."

"That I do not doubt," Thorin said in a soft voice, his eyes clouded with memory but they cleared quickly when he turned to Omul. "I thank you for bringing this information. You have left much for me to think about. Answer this last question, why do you wear the emblem of the Iron Hills when you have ties to Erebor?"

"Our mother is from the Iron Hills," said Rhul. "We were raised there for a time before living in the Misty Mountains near one of the Ironfoot Outposts. The Ironfoots are the culture we have adopted best, but we love the tales of old from Erebor so do those in other settlements."

Thorin nodded and he stood from the table, dismissing the two dwarves. "I see it that there is much to your past, there is more to you than meets the eye. But for now you are welcomed in my Halls. Stay as long as you need to resupply and rest. My people will take care of you when you need it."

"Your rams are in the stables," said Dwalin. "The stable master will help sort you out."

Omul and Rhul stood also and bowed their heads to show their respect. They turned and left to room without another word, having completed their business.

Thorin stood at his window, relit his pipe again and drew in a deep breath of smoke.

"You are conflicted Thorin," pointed out Dwalin, watching his good friend.

"And I have the right to be," he replied lowly. His eyes drifted to his hand where the same ring Balin, Dwalin, and he shared rested. It was simple design in durable silver, and a blazing reminder to their past. It symbolized their struggles and friendship since the Battle of Azanulbizar and the sacking of Erebor. He knew he would not be alone in this mystery of Thrain's rumor.

"Do you believe the lad?"

"I know it to be true Dwalin," Thorin turned to look at him, a determined gleam in his eye. "I will think about this, it changes much what I have thought before."

Dwalin nodded in understanding, knowing his beliefs had changed also. "What about the Goblins, they can prove to be a nuisance to the settlements on our borders. They will disrupt trade and livestock."

"Gather a party and track them down," commanded Thorin. "Let them know the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains will not allow such vermin to cross into our lands."

* * *

**[Updated 3/21/15] Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin's ring they share comes from the concept art books. I thought it was a great idea so I included it. Things differ in this version of Thrain's backstory because I wanted it to match with the DOS EE scenes. Remember, everything that happens, happens for a reason.**


	3. Hunting Parties and Dinner Invitations

**Dis and Thorin talk, Fili gets to go on a hunting party, and the Ironfoots meet Huri. Kili is also saved by a Rhul from a hound and he brings word of dinner invites.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Hunting Parties and Dinner Invitations**

* * *

It was early noon when Dis arrived at Thorin's office. She'd brought lunch for him today.

Word had quickly spread about the mysterious riders from the night before and she knew her brother would be the first one to talk with them. She would like to know what they had to say, knowing if it concerned Thorin it would concern her. He would teller her eventually but he kept information to himself longer than she would have liked.

Around the corner, she spotted Dwalin exiting the office with a big smile on his burly face and eagerness in his step. She watched him with a curious look; she hadn't seen him in a good mood for a long while. Then again, Dwalin had a smaller range of expressive emotions and the warrior preferred to only show some of his favorites.

"What has you in such a good mood?" she asked as he whisked by.

"Good day Dis," he greeted walking backwards. "The ladies and I will be bashing heads in tonight thanks to the Ironfoots."

"Do you mean Dwarves from the Iron Hills?" she asked. Dwalin ducked away before she could get an answer. In every conversation she had with him, he normally kept his words short and somehow always directed them to either war stories or talking about his beauties, Grasper and Keeper or his knuckle dusters.

When they were boys, Fili and Kili would always ask Mister Dwalin about his adventures, tattoos, and scars. By now she knew about every tale by heart thanks to the sheer amount of times they reenacted them in her kitchen with their play swords. Her boys never seemed to tire, until they grew up.

She brushed open the door and entered her brother's office. It was his simple office and he had a larger conference room further in the mountain. Thorin stood rock still behind his desk with his gaze fixated on the large map pinned to his wall. The few Dwarvish settlements of their people were outlined in bold ink and as were the roads and tunnels that connected them. She knew he was lost in thought because of the smoke rings that drifted around his head and his stock still stature while he chewed his pipe between his lips.

On his desk there was a memoir to Balin about an Iron Hill settlement north east of Rohan, asking who lived there and what business they had with them. On the map it connected with an Iron Hill Outpost. Dis glanced over it quickly before setting the tray down. The clink it made broke Thorin from his thoughts and he briefly looked startled. He didn't recall hearing the door open.

"Dis," he greeted with rare warmth in his voice. Thorin loved his sister and he considered her one of his best friends and the strongest dwarrowdams he had the opportunity of meeting. He enjoyed it when she visited him in his office during the day when he had a moment and when they were on good terms. Sometimes their opinions clashed about how Fili and Kili should be raised.

"Never before have I seen you so stumped over something," she said, teasing her brother as she organized the silverware on his tray. "Not like this in a long time."

Thorin lifted an eyebrow in the silent gesture that said 'I wasn't stumped over something.'

"Oh don't bother denying it, brother. I see it in your eyes. Tell me, what has you in such a thinking mood?"

Thorin looked like he wasn't going to say anything but Dis knew better. She gave him _the_ _look_, the one where he knew he would not win this argument and he might as well tell her something. He hated The Look and he never understood how dwarrows were able to pull it off with no sword or axe or any threats for that matter. They could cause a whole army to tremble under their gazes and obey anything they said with their glares.

He took one more breath on his pipe and set it down in its bowl for the second time that morning. His thoughts continued to drift to the conversation he had earlier and he couldn't bring himself to worry Dis that way. She already left the past in the past and had moved on, focusing her attention on grooming his heirs to be the best dwarves they could. He wasn't sure of the rumor himself, and he felt it would be best to only tell her when he confirmed it.

"What is this?" she asked, pulling a paper from beneath the memoir. It was the exact one Omul had delivered from his father, the note explaining the findings of the rumor.

"I would advise it would be best if you did not go rifling through my business," he said. He pulled the paper away from her and folded it over, sliding it in a drawer.

"I know that letter is from those Ironfoot's. All the guards are in a buzz over what news they brought, Fili and Kili may even have caught word and Dwalin said they were from the Iron Hills. Seeing as I am your sister and advisor on some matters of the settlement, I can ask you what they brought news of." She sat down and raised her chin slightly, challenging him the way sisters would.

"I see that I cannot persuade you. Very well then, they come from the Iron Hills, being travelers for their trade, and they brought word of Goblins on our borders," said Thorin, stating the things he had observed from the conversation early. A dark look came over his eyes, "The goblins have become bolder in the last few months, never before have I seen them this close this late in the season."

"What was their age?" she asked remembering the guards said they were very young.

"I cannot say, they may be around Fili and Kili's age but they were very skilled and experienced, much like we were in our time," he replied slipping into the confortable nature he reserved for his sister only. "They introduced themselves as Omul, son of Osk and Rhul, his sister."

Dis nodded causing her raven black braids and earrings to sway. "Osk… Osk that is a name I have not heard in a long time. If my memory is correct he now manages a trading post just outside of Rohan. I believe his wife Lain has visited here before. Did they mention where they were from?"

"They said they were raised in the Iron Hills, but they have Erebor ties."

"Then I believed I am acquainted with their family," Dis brushed out her skits, nodding to herself. "What do you plan on doing with the goblins, Thorin?"

"Dwalin's already on it," he said biting into his meat sandwich and taking a sip of ale. She perfectly understood what he meant.

That explained Dwalin's eagerness moments ago. The vermin often killed the men's herds and caused havoc on their homesteads and in turn it hurt the Dwarves economy and trade. Naturally the dwarves would gladly hunt down the vermin as long as it concerned them, they relished in the chance to fight and make a profit.

"You better let Fili go."

Thorin stopped chewing and he slowly set his food down. He looked like he was about to protest but Dis held a hand up to stop him.

"Now wait," she said. "He's nearly eighty and only a fortnight away from his Age Day. He hasn't traveled in some time with the others _without_ his brother and every sunrise he's out training, hoping to catch your eye and allow him to go on a patrol."

"He's not ready," Thorin quickly protested, switching to the automatic answer.

"I beg to differ Thorin! Your nephew – my son – is far sharper and more skilled than most dwarves older than him. He's well trained, resourceful and turning out to be a strong leader. We've been through a lot in our youth and you only want to make sure he is ready to handle the world outside his door, you want to shelter him from the horrors we faced," Thorin winced at her words, knowing it to be true. "They too have had struggles here, like all dwarves. It's time we let him prove his worth and experience the world so then he can show our people that he can be the heir he is destined to be. Let him go Thoirn."

He nodded reluctantly, seeing his sister's point, even if he didn't quite like the idea. They allowed Fili and Kili to fight, travel, and become educated in the ways of their culture. But Thorin and Dis or Dwalin had always been there, even though now it was at a distance. Fili was ready, Thorin knew that and he could deny it no longer. His people needed to see what his heir was capable of alone.

"I see your point Dis. Fili is ready, it's only his brother we need to worry about. Kili is still too young," he pushed away his plate and stood up. "I will inform Fili myself when I have finished."

"I don't think you will regret this," she said.

Thorin just grunted.

Dis left after that, knowing with faith that Fili would be fine. Kili would be unhappy that he was going to be left behind, but she would deal with it later. Now her priority was tracking down the dwarves Thorin talked to earlier. She had a few questions for them.

* * *

Outside the remnants of the storm clouds dragged away in a slow moving wind. The great boulders of the sky morphed and twisted into towering gray columns, highlighted by silver outlines, causing the sky to drift apart to reveal pristine blue in the southwest. The ground was still wet from the night before and hail bits clustered together in the grass, but the bright sun promised a drier day. Already a soft summer breeze blew in the air, sweet and forgiving after the raging winds and biting cold.

Omul and Rhul had successfully made it out of the Grand Halls without a problem. Dwarves of all ages talked excitedly together for word of a Goblin hunt had spread quickly. Some would look longingly at their weapons, wishing they were a part of the hunt and others questioned why they were even near their lands to begin with.

The main road leading up to the Grand Hall ran straight through the market. The stalls and small shops on either side were paced far enough away from the road that if a band of riders came running up they would easily be able to get through a crowd without a problem.

In geometric rectangles, sections of the market were fenced off with streets into sectors. The market was the largest area of valley with repair shops, stables, and smithies; craftsmen by trade, lumber houses, fabric stalls, and jewel carts; food markets and an entire building dedicated to essential items; an inn, three taverns and all sorts of tools and weapons lined up in beautiful display cases.

Already the market was filled with voices and cheer as the dwarves routinely cleared away the water, hail, and muck and straightened signs and tarps. The Blue Mountains were close to the ocean and the valley was frequently visited by raging summer tempests and heavy snow storms year round. The rain shadow had no effect on them so they grew accustomed to the storms.

A dwarrowdam wearing a gray-green dress walked by and caught Rhul's eye. She carried sea glass silver jewelry in her selling box. Rhul had only heard of sea glass from her travels and she was told it was colorful like gems and rounded by the crashing of waves. She immediately dragged her brother into the market to browse, planning her next purchase.

The two of them glanced around quickly, picking out what caught their attention and making note where to return. Rhul noted she would be able to fetch a good price for her goods; they would make enough money to restock and spend with extra left over.

The stables were situated only a little ways off the main road. The building was fairly close to the main gate and a distinct stone paved street led up to the open doors of the building. The stables were built out of solid spruce logs and beams, cleared of their bark and cured to last. The masonry for the foundation of the building was well planned and expertly cut with motifs of angular horses, ponies, and rams and warriors running along the stone. The paddocks behind were large enough to house a small army's worth of ponies and more fences stretched beyond that and over the green field to the creek.

A battered lantern hung limply on the post at the crossroads signifying where the stables were in the dark. The whole building would have been shut tight to keep the animals dry there or in their lean-tos. It would have been a miracle if they could have found it in last night's storm.

The sliding stable doors stood open, encouraging the sunshine to dry the mud out. In the paddocks, goats large enough to pull carts, ponies, and a few oxen with branding marks on their hides stood together in the light and basked in their shedding coats. Chickens clucked around looking for worms and pigs, hogs, and two tamed boars rolled in the muck a distance away. The few black milk cows mooed and chomped on the grass loudly and ignored the world around them.

A line of ponies stood tied to the fence in stages of saddling up for riders or supplies. Their shaggy coats now stood in patches from their usual thickness and they pulled at their leads excited to get going.

And the famous annoying tom cat that never went away perched on the fence looking irritated at the animals, pigs and chickens and their happiness for the sun and muck.

Inside a blacksmith was fitting a pony a new pair of shoes and a young lad mucked out the stalls. Under the shade of the building it was cool with that moist earth and horse smell mixed with the clean straw and worn leather. The stable master, the dwarf they were looking for, stepped out from the saddle rack carrying one in his thick arms with a bridle looped over his elbow.

In a lot of ways the stables felt like home to the siblings. They'd grown use to the road trip lifestyle and they understood the importance of forming close relationships with their stable masters and their animals. If a stable master knew you well and trusted you, he would gladly set you up with the best mounts instead of a lesser animal that would tire easily. They also knew all the greatest news and which passes and river crossing were open for traveling.

The stable master, known as Huri, spotted the siblings coming to his barn and he instantly picked up the unique emblems on their coats.

"You must be the Iron Hill lads from last night," he welcomed but stopped when he saw that Rhul was actually a lady. "My apologizes m'lady," he dipped his head. "I'm afraid I can't get to you right now, I must finish saddling up mounts for the hunting party that'll be leaving this afternoon."

"A hunting party for what, may I ask?" said Omul. By the amount of ponies lined up outside, he knew it to be a force of six with pack animals.

"Aye, you may. Dwalin's been rounding up a few of his most accomplished warriors to track 'em goblins down," the smithy remarked before Huri could. He released the hoof he held captive and the pony gratefully shook his mane when he could finally stand on four legs. "Not a problem for 'em, it'll be a sporting match more than anything. I assume it was you that brought 'em news in. You've made a few dwarves mightily happy to get out and smash hammers on heads."

The smithy brushed his hands off and cleared his tools away in a satchel. Huri paid him and the longtime partner left without another word.

"Now tell me, what I can help you with?" he asked.

Huri was a nice fellow with a light accent and warm personality. His beard was partially braided in thin strips and his hair pulled back in a low ponytail which made him resemble his profession very accurately. He had his sleeves rolled up and when his tan buff arms and thick hands flexed and they knew he could wrangle any untamed ox or calm a wild animal with soothing strokes on its nose.

"Our big horns were stabled here for the night," answered Omul. "Our bags were still with them and we would like to retrieve them. We have no place for them to stay but we can accommodate for any expenses for keeping them here."

Huri nodded. He had unsaddled the unusual mounts himself and made sure none of their stuff went missing overnight. "Follow me and I'll show you your mounts."

They walked down the stable corridor to where they reached a pen set in the ground by a foot from where they stood. The two big horn rams had been unsaddled and rubbed down with their tackle and luggage stacked on a table next to the gate. The animals rested on their knees in the fashion of most goats and slept with their heads upright, chins against their chests with their great curling horns in the air.

"They are not as injured as I first feared they would be," explained Huri, tapping on the gate to get the animals attention. They only cracked open an eye and choose not to move. "You Ironfoots sure know how to breed strong big horns. Ours never would have lasted as long as yours did."

"The Wilds and rockier landscapes of the East require them to be stronger," mentioned Rhul resting her elbows on the pen. "Our mother has kept a fine bloodline for many years to the point where she can sell her finest rams for a fancy price. These two were our pack animals until our ponies went missing in the ambush."

"I take it you will be taking them when you leave," said Huri. "Tis a shame they would not be staying."

"We won't be going until a couple of weeks," said Omul. "Besides they look like they enjoy the place. Depending on how they are when we prepare to go, they may or may not come with us."

Huir looked at Omul understanding what he was implying. "Ered Luin could use a pair like them. Are they able to breed?"

"Surprisingly, yes!" exclaimed Rhul, tossing her head back in frustration. "It's been impossible to keep them off of each other."

"If she is pregnant, which is very likely," Omul pointed out the female one. "Kip will refuse any bribing. We won't be able to take them with us. She'll be too stubborn to move or be fit enough to travel."

Huri chuckled, understanding the problem with breeding animals perfectly.

"We need a place to stay," said the brother, "We were told you would be able to help us find a place."

"Though I may have only known you for a few minutes, I have already grown to like you," smiled Huri warmly. "I have no place at my place. My wife can barely keep our children contained at times. I have a close friend by the name of Boruk who is looking for extra help since his apprentice is away on a caravan trade. He owns the lumber yard by the creek. I keep his oxen here until he needs them for pulling."

"Thank you Master Huri," said Rhul and bobbed her head in a bow. "Hopefully we will become acquainted again."

"I expect it," he replied. "I have a boy who is a decade younger than you and he would love to hear your tales of being on the road. Oh, and you tell old Boruk that I sent you over to him. He generally likes Ironfoots and it'll put you in good standing with him."

The three of them shook hands just as the first of the hunting party came strolling down the road to check on their mounts. Huri excused himself and the siblings gathered up their stuff and went over to Boruk's place.

* * *

Fili had spent all morning practicing his sword stances in the underground arena. The outdoor one was unusable with mud and muck. He would rather practice outside under a sweltering sun than on a nice day with mud up to his heels, slowing down his movements.

Dwalin walked in through the wide doorway and headed to the armory. He had the gait of a dwarf on a mission, which for Dwalin it meant he was gathering a taskforce.

"And what brings Mister Dwalin here in such a good mood today?" Fili asked, feeling exuberant with himself and wanting to jest a bit.

Dwalin shoot the blonde a look. "Why is every Durin asking me that? I'm always in a good mood."

Fili smiled knowing that it wasn't always true. When Dwalin was in a good mood during training he wouldn't beat the crap out of you unless he thought you deserved it. Now when Dwalin was in a bad mood during training you would wish you were stuck on kitchen duty all day than fight him. Fili once had the _wonderful _opportunity to face him on one of his bad days and he was lucky enough to escape with only cuts and nicks and heavily bruised limps and not a broken arm.

Dwalin talked with a group of dwarves while Fili stayed on his bench cleaning his sword. He slipped into the muscle memory movements and listened to the conversations around him. The words 'Goblin hunt' quickly passed around and he knew they were going to go hunting. He had already about last night from the dwarves here; they had all been speculating what news the travelers would have brought.

"It was the Ironfoots that rode in last night," said one dwarf with a shaggy brown beard as he walked past Fili. "They were chased by goblins on the way here and could not find shelter before the storm hit. I'm looking forward to spilling some blood before my next meal."

Fili had never met an Ironfoot before. It was rare to hear of them traveling this far and only two of them for that matter. Thorin's cousin Dain never took the trip west to visit his kin, the journey was too dangerous at times of the year and expensive to finance. Generally if anyone wanted to do business with Dain they would have to travel half way or converse by letter.

That's when Thorin walked in. Everyone stood a little taller or bowed their heads in respect and waited to be addressed. When they saw that the Exiled-King was heading towards the golden-haired prince, they went back to their business, talking excitedly about which weapons they would be bringing.

Fili twirled his sword in his hands and slid it into the scabbard on his back and straightened his tunic. Thorin had sought him out in the past couple of days to talk with him about this Age Day and what would come of it. Fili prepared himself to expect another sudden discussion along the same subject. It was beginning to become a little tiring for him. "Yes uncle?"

"You're mother convinced me to let you go with the hunting party," he said suddenly. Fili was not expecting this at all. "Stay sharp, use what I have taught you and I would advise not getting yourself injured, Fili."

"Uncle if I may ask," he said when Thorin turned to leave. Fili tried to hold down his excitement the best he could but a smile still pulled at the corner of his lips. "Where will we be going?"

"To the outside of our borders, where the mountain valley beings with the two stones on the peaks," he answered with a hint of one of his rare smiles behind his short beard. "Those vermin have come to close to our lands and its best we show them all the fire we can muster. It would be best if you went."

Thorin left and Fili smiling at the turn of events, then his nephew ran home to clean up and prepare for the journey.

* * *

Omul and Rhul found Boruk's house exactly where Huri had told them it was. The building wasn't lavish or big, but rather simple with good storage and a warm hearth. Boruk was surprised that Huri sent them over to see him, but he kindly received them after hearing they were from the Iron Hills and were willing to board. He had a half-brother who lived in the Iron Hills, and like most dwarves they were in good standing with the Ironfoots.

Boruk showed them their rooms. They had access to a back bedroom and with a back door and a nicely furnished loft. He left them to unpack their bags, apologizing that he didn't have a lunch for them to eat. Rhul said it was okay, they'd eat the last of their previsions for the midafternoon meal.

They unpacked their bags and sorted through their soiled clothing. Camping supplies, tools and weapons were laid out on the floor, organized per person. Bags of wool articles, leather objects, and pink tinted quarts shards along with other items came next. Not all was accounted for, they had lost a few of their bags when they ponies went down.

Rhul was upset when she learned her journal was missing, it was in one of the bags they were missing. It held their accounts of their travels and a sketch of her favorite pet from back home along with many of her personal thoughts she would like to tell her children one day.

She accepted what couldn't be changed and then asked for a wash tub from Boruk. He gladly provided her one and she set off to wash their clothes. They stripped and put on some extra clothing Boruk had in a spare chest. Omul helped a little bit with his delicates and leather armor but he quickly found a shady spot under the pine tree and fell asleep with his boots off and socks in the wind when Rhul wasn't looking.

Rhul sighed when she saw her brother fast asleep and she quickly slipped into the rhythm of washing their clothes, letting her thoughts wander. She was thankful that she didn't have to wash them on river stones. Doing it that way required too much work when traveling.

She thought about the merchandise she saw on sale in the market and which vendors she could trade her work with. She thought about the different leather patterns she knew and which items she was going to craft. She thought about what they were going to do for the next couple of weeks and who they might meet.

While on the hand Omul dreamed about dinner, wishing for something to fill his belly.

An Ironfoot folk song quietly slipped into the air while the clothes dried and she patched their overcoats with thread. Already a few hours had passed. Her needling stilled on Omul's overcoat when she heard the wooden carts crash into each other and a baying fill the air from the plaza across the street.

Boruk's house was next to the cart lot and it wasn't a busy place to begin with. She rolled onto her knees to catch a look of what was causing the commotion.

Running along the rows of carts a brown-haired dwarf carrying a bow and quiver dodged back and forth with a large hound on his tail. He had a look of terror and laughter on his face when the dog lunged and crashed into a wheel. The dwarf laughed and the hound was beginning to become frustrated. Then it decided to take a more direct approach.

Kili shouted in shock when the dog leapt off the gravel and into a cart. He drew an arrow and aimed it at the beast, believing the animal was going for the kill.

Rhul wasn't too far away from them. She saw the tongue of the cart the Dwarf was about to trip over as he raced backwards with his bow in hand. Most importantly she spotted the collar hidden under the dog's neck flap. It was either a pet or a hunting hound of someone's and was terribly lost.

She gathered up a few stones and took off.

Kili drew an arrow and aimed it at the dog's ear as a warning shot but he suddenly found himself eating dirt and stones. The dog leaped into the cart he dripped over and it placed two heavy pads on the side and growled at Kili. Tendrils of drool dripped onto his leg, beady eyes staring him down and the hound was about to pounce when a wickedly placed shot bounced off its neck.

_Twunk!_

The dog shrank back instantly, ears flattened on its head as it looked for its attacker. Kili craned his head around to see a young dwarrowdam running towards him with stones in her hands.

"Off you get you big mutt!" she yelled and pegged him in the snout with a stone. "Go eat raccoons or get lost!"

The dog jumped out of the cart and ran away with its tail between its legs, his pride injured and completely forgetting about his offender. The hound turned around a couple yards down the road and she threw another stone at it. It was a long shot and it bounced off a boulder but the sound sent the dog running back to its master. As they would later find out, the dog belonged to a farmer a couple miles away and became loose during the storm.

"Bless Mahal's Forge," cried Kili, he jumped to his feet and thanked his rescuer. "I thought he was going to eat me!"

Rhul tossed the stones away and she studied the dwarf before her. He was about her age with dark brown smooth hair, not curly or wiry like most dwarves. He lacked a beard but there was light stubble on his face. He wore a gray blue tunic with warrior boots and a knife rested on his hip with a sagging pouch strapped over his shoulder and behind his back. His features were softer than most dwarves but his brown eyes were sharp and youthful, they were the eyes of a hunter.

Kili studied Rhul at the same time. She wore a formless green shirt and brown pants that weren't quite her size. Her hair was dark blonde with little criss-crossing braids down the back of her head and she had the common light jawline-sideburn beard most dwarrowdams had. Her face was peppered with healing scrapes and cuts and her blue gray eyes looked tired with exhaustion but they held a certain life to them that interested Kili. She didn't have any weapons on her besides the stones she was threw a minute ago and her sleeves were still damp from doing laundry. They were rolled up above her elbows revealing the long white bandages up her left arm.

"Kili at your service," he greeted with a respectful bow. Inside he was thrilled to meet someone his age, for he knew nearly everyone in the Blue Mountains and visitors always intrigued him.

"Rhul at yours," she replied with a smile.

Her accent was what surprised him most. The only dwarves he knew that spoke remotely close to her accent type were Bofur and Bombur. But hers was far thicker than theirs and a little exotic, well as exotic as dwarves could be.

"What were you thinking when you went after that hound?" she asked breaking him from his chain of thoughts.

"Oh no, no, no, he went after me!" Kili exclaimed and defended himself. "I was minding my own business when the beast nearly chomped my head off."

"Could it have been that rabbit pouch you're carrying?" she asked. "Hounds can smell fresh meat for miles. They are bread to be trackers and retrievers." Rhul had a heart for dogs since they had saved her from danger many times before.

Kili remembered the pouch when she pointed it out; he forgot he had filled it that morning with three rabbits he had killed in a field.

"Should have still let me kill it," he said putting his bow away and checking over the arrows in his quiver.

"And kill someone's prime hunting dog? I don't think that would have settled well with the farmers," she noticed the questioning look on his face. "The chain around its neck, it wasn't dwarvish-made."

_She is quite observant_, thought Kili. "Where are you from?"

"The Iron Hills, my brother and I will be staying with Mister Boruk until we are ready to leave in a couple of weeks."

"The Iron Hills you say?" he pointed a finger at her remembering what his mum had sent him out to do a couple hours back. "You wouldn't happen to be the two dwarves that came in last night during that storm?"

"Word's traveled quickly I see," she said shaking her head. "And yes, as crazy as we are that was us."

"Perfect! My mother sent me out to find you. She wanted to invite you over for dinner," he paused remembering the wording she had used. "She said… she was acquainted with your mother quite well and would like to meet her son and daughter. Something along those lines I suppose."

Rhul looked doubtful, her mother never told her about a friend in the Blue Mountains. "What's your mother's name?"

"Why the wonderful Lady Dis,"

"I'll ask my brother about it," she turned to leave, heading back to the house. Kili ran to catch up with her and he walked pace for pace with her.

"Or you could come with me now. She's friendlier than my uncle and enjoys catching up with old friends, or daughters of old friends. And there's my brother also, he's been a little up tight lately and could use some new company."

"You haven't had much practice talking to a dwarrow, have you?" she asked picking up on his nerves.

Kili shook his head, a light pink coloring his ears. "There are not many who would wish to speak with me."

"We will accept your invitation. Hopefully you don't mind us taking a moment to get ready."

"Not at all," he replied. "Besides it'll give me a good excuse for being late in returning home."

She looked at him again, a little perplexed about his very open personality. But he was nice and she had this sense that he was somewhat a black sheep among his friends, like her and her brother.

"Omul," she kicked him in the foot. "Get up we have dinner arranged."

Her brother groaned and cracked an eye open to see his sister. She dropped his clean laundry on him with a _whumph_ and he tried throwing it off without getting it dirty. "Where are we going?"

"To Lady Dis' house, Kili brought the invitation himself," she replied turning away with her own laundry in her arms.

"Who's Kili? How long have I been out for you to already make friends?" he asked pulling on his boots.

"He's right there if you want to ask him."

Kili had situated himself on a log next to the house, finishing cleaning the rabbits and dropping their insides in the trash bucket. Omul looked at him then at the sun to gauge what time it was and back again to Kili. He must have been asleep for a while if his sister already had met a dwarf about her age.

"Kili, will there be plenty of food tonight?" Rhul asked from the doorway, trying to peak her brothers interest.

He looked up and smiled brightly. "There'll be plenty, no worries about that."

"Well good," said Omul walking into the house. "We haven't had a good meal in a couple of days."

When he walked past his sister in the house he said to her quietly, "How did you meet him?"

Rhul grinned before climbing up the ladder to the loft to change. "I saved him from a bear hound and he was already looking for us."

Omul cocked at eyebrow, feeling stupefied. His nap certainly left him out of the loop because he was missing something. But he shook it off and changed into his clean and newly repaired clothes, hoping there would be good food because that's all he had been dreaming about.

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**[Updated 3/21/15] Character introductions setting up events to unfold. It was a joy to write. Review if you can, a simple "good job" will do perfectly. **


	4. Around the Dinner Table

**Fili says good bye, Dis, Kili, Omul and Rhul have a wonderful night with many stories and growing friendships, and Omul's feelings bring about an intriguing dream.**

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**Chapter 4: Around the Dinner Table**

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In a cavern taller than the pine trees that grew on the slopes of the mountain, houses built from stone were organized in neat square rows under the mountain. The buildings were sometimes two stories high and they resembled apartments. The upper home was accessed by a staircase leading to a balcony which was supported by stone columns that framed the bottom home's doorstep. The buildings carved from the rock had all the outstanding details of dwarvish craftsmanship, masonry, and iron works. With no large amounts of gold or treasure, the Blue Mountain people took pride in what they could make.

Natural light filtered from a cave opening in the ceiling of the cavern, which when the mountain was still unoccupied it at one point had been a maze of natural limestone tunnels. The dwarves had carved the limestone away to uncover hidden columns of stone they later carved into homes.

People moved about with packs of tools on their shoulders or pick axes in hand. Life was busy during the day, with work to do or things to prepare, but at night the Dwarves would relax by smoking pipes, training in the arena, and enjoying a good meal from the famous Gray Hill Inn and Tavern. Songs were sung, stories were told and a day's profit counted up.

It was a good life, a prosperous life, and far better than living as a vagabond on the road. Fili loved his life but like any dwarf his age he longed for adventure or battle to take him away from it.

The golden haired prince walked through the courtyard a few hours later after helping Dwalin prepare for their trip. Satchels had to be packed, weapons sharpened, and maps drawn of possible areas where to look. Dwalin predicted the trip would take less than a week and a half and Fili wanted his mother to know where he was going, so he would be home in time for his Age Day celebration.

He nodded a hello to a few friends when he came to his house. It was constructed out of the same blue and black marble and stone combination like the rest, but above the doorway their father had carved the family crest of two ravens and a crown. Fili smiled sadly at the crest, his father had built this home. To honor his father he had adopted the crest into his own which he carved on all his weapons and possessions.

Inside his mother was prepping a goose for dinner.

Dis, his beautiful mother with her raven black hair, a kind and strong face and loving embrace and determined will, heard her eldest son walk in and she greeted him from the kitchen. Fili was dressed in his traveling clothes with his fur coat and throwing axes strapped to his boots. He was ready to go with his pony waiting at Huri's stables. All he had to do now was say his goodbyes to his mother.

"Isn't it a little early to be cooking dinner?" he eyed the goose and the stove in the corner heating up.

"Not when I want to prep a goose for dinner in my own fashion," she waved a knife through the air. "Thorin talked to you did he?"

Fili watched his mother discard pieces of the goose into a trash bucket. He wished he could stay for dinner, her cooked goose was delicious. She went about chopping the meat into strips with quick hands.

"Aye, uncle did. I wanted to talk to you about that. I'll be gone for a couple of days and hopefully will be back before my celebration."

"I already knew that you'd be going. The tricky part is keeping your brother occupied for a few hours, that way he won't go sneaking off again. But I think I have that covered," she wiped her hands off with a towel and place a hand on his shoulder and came eye level with him. "You promise me you will take care of yourself out there Fili," she said looking earnestly into his blue eyes. The same eyes he shared with his father. "And promise me you will set a good example for your brother to look up to."

He gently grabbed her wrists between his gloved fingers. "I promise you mother, on my word I will keep safe. I've never been the one to worry you."

She smiled and patted his cheek, feeling the braided mustache beneath the palm of her hand. "I know, but that doesn't mean you attract trouble like wolves to a kill," she sighed. "Have fun and make your uncle proud."

Laughter caught their attention from the courtyard. It was Kili's laugh with his two new friends he had sent out earlier to fetch.

"It'd be best that you go now before your brother has a chance to question you," she said eyes shooting to the door. "He most likely has already heard about the Goblin hunt."

Fili chuckled knowing it to be true and he ducked out the door, signing in Igilshmêk that he loved her and would return. Dis returned the gesture with her own, a soft smile on her face.

Kili led Omul and Rhul to the house and opened the door with a cheerful greeting to his mother and hung his bow on the rack. Dis was already at the door when they entered. She did not know what to expect when the Ironfoots entered. They were leaner than most dwarves with shallow cheeks from not eating a good meal in a long time.

"Mother I would like to introduce Omul and Rhul, the famous Ironfoots that rode in last night."

"Lady Dis, at your service," she greeted with a light curtsey and they returned the gesture. "I see it that Kili finally found you."

"I actually found him," Rhul stopped when Kili made a slicing motion across his neck behind his mother. He already told them to not mention the hound incident from before, it would only worry Dis. "…We ran into each other in the market and he told me you invited us to dinner."

"Are you a good cook?" her brother bluntly asked. He was always thinking about his stomach when he could smell food. Rhul elbowed him and shot him a frown but he just shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

"One of the best cooks I've ever had the chance to eat from," praised Kili entering the kitchen.

Dis smiled at her son, knowing he meant well when in fact she wasn't _the _best cook out there. "I've never seen two Dwarves skinner than what I see before me. You must be famished from your travels."

Omul chuckled, placing his sword on the weapon's rack. "That's what our mother always says. We've spent more time eating our rations than any actual meals. She's afraid we'll shrivel up and blow away someday. "

"I say your mother's worry is quite right," agreed Dis. "You two look like you've been through the thick of it and back."

"You could say that," mentioned Rhul, rubbing her bruised and sore leg.

"The goose is in the oven, it'll be done in a couple of hours. It's a slow roast recipe of mine," Kili hummed in the back, licking his lips excitedly. "I talked with my brother earlier and he told me you brought in news of goblins in our lands. What were you doing to cause such trouble?"

"Who is your brother?" asked Rhul taking a seat at the table.

"That would be my uncle. Thorin Oakenshield," said Kili. "Word's passed around that you are two lost nobles from the Iron Hills and were chased by the goblins for angering their king."

It wasn't really true, Kili was only teasing the two of them.

"That's not what happened," chuckled Omul, rolling his eyes. He took a seat next to his sister at the table. "We feared rumor would have traveled quickly, but our journey is not nearly as wonderful as that sounds."

"Did you say your uncle was Thorin Oakenshield?" asked Rhul looking surprised. "I wasn't expecting that."

"You act like that surprises you greatly," observed Dis.

"We were just told our mother was friends with you and we assumed she didn't have connections to dwarves with higher status," replied the younger lass carefully. "When did you meet her?"

"I knew Lain when she visited the White Mountains at the same time I was there. It had to have been about thirty years ago now," thought Dis thinking back on her old friend. "We stayed there for the winter and we became friends quite quickly. We were both grateful to take a break from our children, but we missed them dearly. Lain and I shared common ground, we had similar likes even though our histories were far different. We appreciated each other's understanding of raising a young family in these different times."

"I now remember her mentioning your name before," said Rhul. "She thinks the best of you."

Dis smiled in understanding.

"What about your dealings with the goblins?" interrupted Kili.

Omul took a moment to reply, making sure his story was in order. "We ran into goblins just outside of the Blue Mountains and they killed our ponies in the middle of the night. About a dozen and a half or so – it's hard to say - ambushed us and surprisingly we had the upper hand. They slunk into the caves in the area and we escaped with our rams that carried our supplies and merchandise. We lost two prime ponies and a couple of our saddles bags in the skirmish."

"How did they ambush you?" he asked again, eager to hear more.

"They crawled right down from the cliff face we were sheltered against. They also swarmed out of a cave and caught us completely by surprise. We were able to hold them off until a clap of lighting in the distance sent them slinking back into the shadows momentarily," said Rhul. "Then we saddled our pack animals and road away just as they were returning. That is how I gained this wound on my arm."

"Why did you come to the Blue Mountains in the first place?" questioned Dis. "A journey from the Iron Hills is a long and hard one for two Dwarves your age."

"Our home is in the Valley Anduin, just south of the Great East Road," answered Omul. His tone was much like the one he used when dealing with business. "We traveled through the Gap of Rohan and across the Green Way for about two months of rigorous horseback. Our father gave us important news to deliver to Thorin since he was not available to do it himself.

"We actually have not been to the Iron Hills in over three years, our mother spends much of her time there and we frequently get letters from her."

"Do you spend most of your time traveling?" Kili asked.

"It's what we do," explained Omul. "Our home is close to the Iron Hills Outpost for messaging, trading, and Dwarvish-business. The outpost was built since the journey east is a long one for many of the Dwarf Families. Most of our days are spent providing protection to caravans or riding messages between dwarves for counting and supplies. It may sound exciting but it is quite boring work with no time to settle anywhere for long. Our friends are those who travel with us."

"What sort of creatures have you fought on your travels?"

The siblings shared a look, knowing they have already faced the evils of the world beyond what the norm has already.

"Wargs, Goblins, shady characters and worse," supplied Omul shrugging his shoulders. "But it does not happen as often as you would think. Near Mirkwood the journey can be quite difficult with more unsavory creatures from the forests and dead lands."

"We spend a lot of time hunting for food, trading, or pausing to gauge direction," added Rhul. "It may sound like a dream but traveling for days on end turns out to be very long. Riding ponies all day or walking through empty landscapes and roads leads to boredom and frustration."

"And occasionally a few interesting games and conversations to pass the time."

"Traveling with a Company is far better," she said, a fond smile spreading over her face "A little slower but there's always entertainment to be found with a band of Dwarves. Nothing better than that."

"If only I could be allowed such privileges," said Kili a little gloomy. "How is it that you have been given them?"

"We know our limits," replied the brother: simple and plain. "Since we were practically raised in the cold Misty Mountains, it makes a Dwarf tough. We don't have a hall of stone to call home or other dwarves to call upon for support. We've learn to rely on ourselves over time. Our parents have been looked down upon for many years because of it."

"How old are you Rhul?" asked Dis suddenly. She was having a hard time gaging Rhul's age. She guessed her to be right around Kili's age.

"I will be of Age in two years. Omul is eighty-nine."

"Seems like something Lain would allow, she was adventurous at heart. And I was told your father is a courageous dwarf, it seems you have gained such traits from them."

"Thank you," said Rhul earnestly.

They moved into different stories, Dis occasionally leaving to check on the goose and preparing Kili's rabbits to eat. Omul and Rhul talked more about their family after being prompted with questions. They explained that Lain had moved back to the Iron Hills after the flu nearly took her life when living in the Misty Mountains about ten years ago. Their father spent much of his time helping at the outpost, the many years spent on the road after Erebor and the Battle of Azanublizar made him an excellent guide to Dwarves in that region. He was even a coordinator with Rohan for a few years, bargaining prices and exchange of goods for service from the many villages that resided there. But he always made sure to keep away from the Lothlórien Elves; he didn't trust elves much like any Dwarf.

As children, Omul and Rhul knew the life on the road well. They spent many months with another family and grew quite attached to them, but when Omul reached that topic he became quiet and Rhul was sober with memory. Something had happened to them and they didn't indulge in any more information. Thankfully Kili asked them another question and they went on.

Their parents taught them the way of the axe and knife but with no luxury of owning a sword until Omul trained with one in the Iron Hill Academy. His sword was poor quality with a chipped blade, but he cherished it greatly and saved money to buy a fine blade soon. They were excellent riders and had crossed the Misty Mountain Passes (besides Moria) many times in all types of weather. They knew the best springs, caves, and river crossing through the Valley of Anduin and beyond. Dis filed it away, somehow knowing it would be of importance in the future.

Dis and Kili talked about life in the Blue Mountains. Kili told them about his archery skills and his extensive training with the sword. He now could keep pace with his brother and the few other warriors Ered Luin housed. Dis explained that Thorin and she were grooming her sons to be the next heirs to the throne. Rhul took a great deal of interest in this topic; she wanted to know more about it. Dis taught them a little bit about the Line of Durin that came from Erebor and the great Kings Under the Mountains. Kili and Rhul listened animatedly while Omul sat back, a thoughtful and slightly scared look in his eyes that he kept hidden away.

The hours ticked on slowly and surely, the four of them becoming more and more comfortable with the each other and the Ironfoots' strange accents and wondrous tales. Dis kept up her warm and mother-like personality, the one only her sons normally would see. Kili was enthralled with their tales and he also exchanged a few of the many adventures he had with his brother.

"Where is Fili?" asked Rhul after an hour or two had passed. "From what you have told me about him I would like to meet him sometime."

Dis paused, mouth slightly open, she wasn't quite for sure how Kili was going to react. "He left this afternoon for the Goblin hunt."

"Was it Mister Dwalin who invited him?" asked Kili incredulously with his arms folded over his chest.

"No, I encouraged your uncle to let him go," his mother replied.

"By Durin's beard! He didn't even come to say goodbye!" Dis shot Kili a look. "But what does it matter? He's missing out on the opportunity of meeting two very fine friends. And a wonderfully cooked goose."

Omul and Rhul smiled at Kili's compliment and Dis sighed, revealed her son wasn't angry. She then quickly pulled out the goose out and had them help set the table.

Kili came from the pantry and pulled out a small brown barrel. "Since the ale is here, dinner now can begin!"

Dinner wasn't a huge meal but it was delicious to the Ironfoot's taste buds. They hadn't eaten this good for so long and the meager meal that morning they had in the Healing House quickly disappeared with cooked goose, boiled carrots and rabbit stew with fresh rolls and a mug of ale.

If one was to look in through the window at that moment, they would shake their head at what they saw. For Dwarves, table manners went out the window.

Rhul kept making faces at her new friend between bites and causing Kili to snicker. Rolls were tossed back and forth and cooked goose jumped all over the table when Omul's leg jumped when a sailing goose hit his face.

Dis laughed, enjoying the carefree atmosphere the Ironfoots brought to her home and not even bothering to correct it. If her brother was here he would have shouted at them long ago to settle down, but she had always been the less uptight one out of the two of them.

Omul dug into his food with such vigor she was worried he hadn't eaten for months, but when he sat back with a satisfied grin Dis knew she'd done her job right. The ale was passed around and Rhul asked for some tea that whistled on the stove. With hot drinks in their bellies they renewed their teasing; Dis ever more growing fonder of her friend's children. For travelers they had been raised to be kind and honest but also knew when to be serious and always loyal and true, a rare quality amongst superstitious Dwarves, and a quality her sons shared with them.

"Mister Omul," Kili started, sounding serious and failing at acting to be so. "I have one question for you."

"Ask away Dwarf," he lifted his mug to take another drink.

"Why is it that you have decided to keep your hair short?" Kili asked, dead serious. Everything came to a halt; it was quiet enough to hear the candles sputtering softly and the wind sighing outside their window.

Dis shot a look at her son, hoping he did not touch a bad note with the lad. Dwarves who cut their hair either did it in remembrance of something they gave up or to publicly show they have been shamed by something they did. It was not a common practice and most of the times dwarves would not take kindly to it.

Laughter broke the silence and everyone looked to Rhul who was clutching her chest with giggles. "That is _the _nicest way he has been asked about his hair. Thank you Kili, thank you! You must tell them Omul! It is a great story!"

"Fine, fine, fine," he grumbled, wiping his fingers off on his pants. "I'll tell the story because if I don't you will. It only happened a number of years ago, and it's quite embarrassing…"

"I can't take this any longer," she interrupted. "You drag it on for too long, like you're forced to eat green lettuce."

"Well maybe it is," he leaned back in his chair with is mug in his hand. "Why don't you tell it then? Since you are so eager for it to be told?"

Rhul took a deep breath and looked directly at Dis and Kili, hands ready to emphasize her points in the story.

"We were traveling with another group of dwarves and the night watch had just been set up. It'd snowed early that day and Omul was freezing his beard off so he decided to cozy on up to the fire like a nice hot furnace. One of the watchmen knew that the fire was too low to last the night so he went off to gather some wood. Omul was blissfully asleep and the watchman didn't see him when he dropped the whole stack onto the flames, causing a plume of sparks to fly in his face!"

"I don't know what I was thinking," he rubbed his head and closed his eyes, grimacing at the memory. "I knew I should have moved further back from the fire in the first place."

"A crown of golden flames spread over his head before he could count to five in Khuzdul," she spread her hands over her head, flickering her fingers back and forth. "He looked like a torch, flaming hair and red in the face. The watchman chased him around, beating him with a wet branch as he screamed and dodged him, not knowing what to do. 'My hair, my hair! Save the beard!' he shouted. 'Oh, but my hair!"

"It ended with me having a face full of mud and snow and becoming a laughing stock," finished Omul peaking over his mug.

"When they cleaned him off, handfuls came out like a shedding dog's coat and luckily one of the dwarves had a pair of scissors in his pocket. Omul's eyes went as big as saucers when he saw the blades."

"They sheared me clean. Like a sheep. I was practically bald for weeks!" he threw up his hands, reliving the embarrassment.

Rhul smiled at her brother's discomfort. "He couldn't even go outside without getting looks."

"I wore a hat for months, waiting for my hair to grow back," he interrupted leaning forward and motioning with his hand along with his words. "I looked like a goat and I tried to grow out my beard to hide the fact I didn't have any hair. It didn't work and not a single lass would look at me. It never grew back the same way. Finally after years I have enough to walk around decently, but it won't grow any longer than this," he laughed at himself, rubbing his short chopped hair. "I keep getting all these looks, even questions about which lord I offended and felt shameful enough to cut my hair. I thank Mahal that I didn't lose my beard. If I had, no one would let me forget about it."

By the end of their tale, Kili was in an uproar, laughing and bounding his fist against the table. "I can only imagine what it would be like to be there!" he gasped finally. He wiped his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. A smile peak from behind Omul's chin length beard, he was glad to see his misfortune bring happiness to some.

They finished dinner after the laughter died down. The table was cleared and the lads were talking weapons when suddenly Kili had a brash idea. They were just discussing the difference between Blue Mountain and Iron Hill War Hammers.

"Omul, I challenge you to a race. It'll be a short lap around the neighborhood. If I win, you will have to teach me the Iron Hill sword stance. And if you win, I will give you an actual sword."

"Don't do it Omul," countered Rhul looking at Kili's eager face. He had the look that he knew he was already going to win. "You still walk bow legged, you won't make it!"

"No reason to turn away from a challenger sister," he winked at her and she huffed. "It's a deal."

The race wound through the neighborhood in a simple route, Kili mapped it out and clearly stated all the rules. No name calling or pulling or shoving. It was a friendly race, one Kili had orchestrated often with the younger lads. It started with Kili in the lead and taking the short corners, but Omul pushed past his sore legs and his lean form quickly over took Kili when he bounded over a set of crates and onto a wagon heading out for the night. Kili was caught behind the wagon in a tight alley and he couldn't turn back to outrun it. Omul won the race stating he didn't cheat because Kili didn't say he could not ride something to the finish line. Rhul knew the ale was getting to his head; it'd been a long time since they had any.

The boys headed out to smoke on their pipes and the girls stayed inside to clean up after the race. Night had fallen hours ago and it was nearing midnight with a waning moon on the rise.

Kili showed Omul his favorite spot to watch the nighttime landscape and smoke a pipe. They settled down as the stars twinkled above and the lights in the market slowly dwindled out one by one. It was peaceful with the warm stone beneath them and the faint noises of the forges finishing up.

They talked about fighting styles and facing off big warriors in the ring and weapons. It was a Dwarf to Dwarf conversation about the tough things in life. There was a pause in their discussion and they sat complementing on their new friendship. In a few short hours they had grown close to each other like good friends, talking and chatting away without a care in the world. People generally gravitated to Omul, he was an easily likeable person, same as Kili if you could push past his differences.

It would be agreed by both of them they had been lacking a friendship like this in their lives.

"Omul," Kili began, as his pipe glowed orange in the dark. "You said that the other Dwarves in the Iron Hills talked down on your folks for raising you. Has it always been hard fitting in?"

Omul watched Kili's pipe in the dark, mulling over his question which had been slow and unsure like he was testing troubling waters. Even though Omul may be older, he still connected with those who were younger than him, mainly because his sister was about the same age. He figured he could talk openly with Kili.

"You could say that Kili," he said, watching the smoke drift through the sky. "For many years we have been the black sheep in the herd. Different, exposed too early to the harsh world past the gates of our home. My parents were ridiculed for it, but eventually we were able to build a reputation thanks to our skills. I joined the Academy and trained to be a soldier, following like my father did, hoping to prove I wasn't as different as everyone said I was. I excelled at it and things began to turn around. Eventually they saw me as an equal, but it took time."

Kili was silent.

"It isn't about what they think," Omul spoke quietly and sincere. "It's about what you think about yourself. Be loyal, be true, be you. If they don't accept you, that's their problem. They're only jealous of something you have."

"And what could that be?" Kili asked feeling down.

"Your optimism."

Kili's head shot up to look at him and Omul could see the hope in his eyes. "Many Dwarves nowadays only care about gold or what they can get out of a deal. In dark times, looking for the good is what we need."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

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Omul and Rhul said goodbye and left before it was past one in the morning. Dis and Kili stood at the door as they watched them leave, feeling a new friendship ignite between them. When the siblings arrived to Boruk's place, he was out, possible at the Gray Hill Inn with friends.

Omul laid in bed thinking about the feelings he was having all night. He remembered a dream he had the night before, one with a blue light and the feeling of an anchor line drawing taunt. He felt it the most when he was around Kili's family, that sensation of going in the right direction. He thought about all the other settlements he had visited and that feeling of being lost and hopeless and how it remained till he arrived here. With the Exiled King and his sister-sons so close, he didn't feel like a wander no more.

As he dreamed that night, silhouettes entered his visions with golden light behind them. There were three of them: a raven, a lion, and a wolf. Omul stood motionless as they watched him and then turned, heading off together into the golden light. He did not follow them; he didn't feel like he had to yet.

His sister was next to him, with a sparkling ring on her finger. She looked older somehow with a happiness he had never seen before in her eyes. "We both found something here Omul," she whispered into their surroundings. "Something we've both been looking for a long time, but we aren't to act on it yet."

The stone corridor suddenly changed focus and Omul found himself alone in front of the gates of Erebor. The ground was covered in ash and a lone wind sang over the empty landscape. Rocks with orange moss and dry grass surrounded him with the spurs of the mountain on either side. He knelt down, feeling the tugging in his heart calling him to the gate, but he could not walk any further.

He brushed aside the ash and desolate dirt to reveal a simple Maiden flower. Beautiful and white with strong roots, like the Dwarrowdams of his people, it defied the ashes around it. Out of the ash a raven flew, small with salt and peppered wings and golden wing tips. It cawed at him and pecked his hand, drawing blood.

He turned his hand and watched the drop fall to the white flower, scaring the petals. The flower withered, crumbling in on itself but the raven nestled the petals with such loving care it grew stronger and larger than before. The ash around the flower blew away and transformed into deep emerald green with rivets of gold. The most startling thing was the raven's eyes that shined like blue gems; looking straight at him with such a strong fierceness and protectiveness that it frightened him.

Then he awoke.

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**[Major update 3/21/15] This was an important chapter of history and character connections. I want my OCs to feel real and deep, so then they must have a connection with the other characters beside on the surface. I like to justify why Omul and Rhul do the things they do based on who they know. And I enjoy writing dialogue.**


	5. Three Week's Time

**Long time guys! I did not plan to take so long. **

**_I did a major over haul on the last chapters and I strongly suggest reading them again. It'll clear up a lot of stuff for future events. _**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favorite/followed****. I'm pleased to know people like this. **

**Here is the last core chapter, after this there will be more time jumps and the actual climb to the leaving for the quest will begin. I have a lot in store and I hope you'll stick with me till the end. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 5: Three Week's Time**

* * *

_When you are busy time passes quickly. _

Four days in and the hunting party traveled through mountain valleys and around peaks looking for the Goblins the Ironfoot's brought word of. Two of those days were spent riding hard through the muck and switch-backing and checking every cave, but to no avail. They were beginning to run out of luck.

Dwalin was beginning to hate the decision to even go after the vermin. He was getting tired of searching and finding no trace of them.

On the third day, they hit a massive rainstorm that washed away any trace of tracks they had hoped to find. It forced the party to hunker in a cave and the dwarves glared gloomily at the clouds, knowing it was only ruining their chances. Even the cliff faces around them mocked them.

Fili was not on watch duty that evening and he was left to his own devices. He sought for a chance to get away from the other warrior's grumblings so he took his lantern and went scouting deeper into the caves. He had one of his duel swords in hand and his watchful eyes traced the sandy floor.

Dwalin checked the passages earlier but he hadn't gone far back enough. There was a hidden turn in a jagged walls and Fili slid past it. Through the passage the cavern opened up to where it was wide enough for his lantern's light to only ghost along the walls. Here the sand had been tossed around to uncover the wet layer and a rancid smell filled the room.

He checked the floor and the walls, looking for possible goblins hidden in the shadows but saw none. He carefully moved forward with his sword outstretched until his boot hit something in the sand. He set the lantern down and uncovered a beautifully crafted harness with metal studs that gleamed like silver. He pulled it from the sand and it shifted to reveal an entire saddle partially buried.

"A dwarvish saddle?" he asked no one in particular. There were claw marks on it and blood splattered on one side. The goblins had tried burying the evidence of their kill.

Then he realized what that putrid scent was, it was the smell of decay. Fili picked up his lantern and looked behind a pair of rocks obscuring his view. There, picked clean and buzzy with flies was the carcass of two ponies half buried.

Realization dawned on him. Dwalin said earlier that the Ironfoots had lost two ponies in an ambush and were forced to ride their pack animals to safety. These were the missing ponies and they had become the goblin's dinner.

Tracks swarmed around the carcasses before leading off to a dark crevice in the wall. Fili set his lantern behind a rock to hide the light and his eyes narrowed in preparation when he grabbed his other sword and headed up the path.

The path was well hidden but it was wider than the one Fili entered and it steadily rose upward to till he exited above the cliff face on the plateau. In front of him, a line of tracks led Fili directly to the northeast where they were still fresh and deep in the rain and mud.

A grin broke out on his face. Their quarry was not going to escape them this time.

"Mister Dwalin!" yelled Fili as he came running into the main cave were the rest of the party was. "There are goblin tracks in the back cave. They lead to the plateau where they are still fresh."

The dwarves looked at the young lad excitedly and Dwalin followed him to the hidden cavern. The burly warrior's eyes sparkled with joy when he saw the fresh tracks and heard Fili's observation.

"You have keen eyes Fili," said Dwalin clamping a hand on his shoulder. "The hunt is back on!"

Fili took the praise in stride; he just was following his gut. The other dwarves who had entered in the cave dug up the remaining saddle and uncovered the few extra bags and throwing knives scattered about the room. One of the warriors recognized the Iron Hill craftsmanship and the exact crests that belonged to the mysterious travelers.

"We leave at first light," commanded Dwalin. He stomped around in excitement with the others, ready to get on the move, axe in hand. "The tracks are fresh and it'll be a race to see who gets first kill."

The dwarves cheered and they settled in for the night, weapons at the ready.

* * *

While Fili was away on an exciting Goblin hunt, Kili was not the least bit jealous. He even momentarily forgot his brother was gone. He was enjoying every day he had with the Ironfoot siblings.

A handful of days had already passed since that initial dinner invitation. Omul and Rhul went about doing their business and selling their goods, providing a great deal of help in the waning markets. Rhul already had a commission list and she was busily cutting and weaving leather products from bags to bracelets to sheaths and repairing saddles and belts. Omul worked in the forest with Boruk, cutting trees and turning them into lumber for the new fences to be built that summer. While Kili was off doing his own duties the siblings spent their free time training, eating and helping out at Huri's stables and meeting his family.

Kili knew today Omul would be at the training ring sharpening his skills with his old sword. He owed a sword to Omul because he'd been beaten at the race and he was still a little irked that he had cheated, but he secretly praised him for his amazing reflexes. The Ironfoot gratefully took Kili's promise of a weapon but without also promised he would teach him the way of his kin's fighting.

It was a turn of events to say, and Kili was looking forward to it.

With a packaged sword and scabbard in his arms he entered the field where Omul and Rhul were sparring together. Rhul had light training with the sword since she mostly preferred throwing blades or a lance. Omul was tester her on her sword skills, claiming she would one day need them on one of their caravan expeditions.

Kili observed that Omul moved about stockier in blocked formation with large powerful slashes and hacks, his style far different than anything Kili's seen when compared to the Blue Mountain's more fluid and rounded styles. Rhul was holding well against Omul but she was struggling to make her move under her brother's relentless attacks. She looked like she was about to deck him when he called another kill on her with his sword pointed to her neck.

"Oh come on sister!" jabbed Omul. He ducked a swipe to his head as she tried to retaliate. "You can do better than that!"

She glared at her older brother, wiping the sweat from her face and letting the sword tip drop into the dirt a few paces from him. Her breathing was rough but controlled and her eyes sparkled with intelligence, looking for a way out.

"You're thinking too much," her brother added.

Kili sat on the fence, the package across his lap as he watched the two siblings duel it out. Fili and he were like this all the time when they sparred but they would keep at it for hours until pure exhaustion broke them. There was nothing better than sibling rivalry in a sword fight.

"Good day Kili!" greeted Omul, only taking his eyes of his sister for a second. She ceased that chance to draw a stone from the ground and snap it at his head. The rock was a bullseye to the forehead and Omul reeled from the blow.

She dropped her sword and pounced on her brother, grabbing him by his sword arm and wrenched it backwards before kicking him in the back of the knee. He folded down onto one leg, grunting as his arm socket was twisted around painfully. He was forced to drop the sword when she applied more pressure.

At times he forgot how strong his sister was.

"'You can do better than that!'" she mocked triumphantly. "I showed you!"

Omul grunted, face pulling up in pain. His arms were not meant to bend this far backwards. "Okay! I get it! You win that one."

She released him and he collapsed into the dust, rolling his arm around and scowling at her. "You were supposed to use the sword," he grunted.

"And you always said to use your resources. You know I've always had a far better throwing arm than a sword arm, Omul," she dusted off her vest.

"I regret agreeing to teach you how to use a sword," he grumbled and dusted his hands off.

"I think you forced me into it," she replied. "And that was about twenty years ago." She came over to where Kili was sitting on the fence. "What do you have there, Kili?"

"I'm here to keep my promise to your brother," Kili patted his package, fighting to keep a smile off his face. He was secretly glad he didn't have a sister to show him up in front of a friend.

Omul joined them, sliding his sword into its scabbard. He saw the package on Kili's lap. "You didn't have to lad, it was just a game. A mere bet for enjoyment."

"And a Prince of Durin always keeps his promises," Kili said and jumped down and held out the package to the dark blonde Dwarf. "Just as we agreed the night before."

Omul took the package from him, eager to see what was wrapped beneath the leather folds. His calloused fingers quickly undid the string and folded back the covering to reveal a well-crafted blade. He held it up to catch the sunlight in an experimental twirl, finding it perfectly balanced. The sun revealed many of the scratches and dings along the blade and pommel form training and usage.

"It was my old sword before I forged another one," said Kili, patting the scabbard on his hip. "It's been sitting around my room for years and mother was about to have me give it to the armory. There's nothing special about it, it's just an old training blade of mine."

Rhul drew her brother's original sword and she held it for everyone to see. The old blade was made out of cheaper material with a basic handle. The sword had been reheated again and again to fix the warping and bends and in result weakening it to where it was off balanced greatly. Compared to Kili's training blade, it was a rusted kitchen knife.

His blade was decorated with shaky runes, most likely from his own hand at a young age and the hilt was colored brass in a descending pattern of triangles with a sweaty leather grip. It was a work of art to Omul when most dwarves would see it as useless.

"I cannot accept this," said Omul trying to hand back the sword. Kili held up his palms to stop him.

"No worries, it's yours if you'll have it. It's one of the few blades I was _not _able to break when I was younger. It would be my privilege."

"What does the inscription say?" inquired Rhul.

A sheepish chuckle came from Kili. "It reads, 'Dedication is for those who prepare.' My mother suggested it, saying it would push me through my training if I wanted to be a great swordsman. And it has kept me going."

Omul sheathed it in the scabbard, hearing the satisfied zing of the blade. His heart burned with gratitude at Kili's generosity, he was not expecting a gift like this. "We've only known each other for a few days, why would you do this?" he questioned.

"The night we had the bet, I felt a connection between us," replied Kili. He was unsure how to exactly phrase it. "It was as if we had been friends for a long, long time. No one, besides my brother has been this understanding of me."

"In appreciation of such a great gift, even though I won the bet," said Omul. "I will teach you a few of the Iron Hill techniques today. And you will forever be my friend, Kili."

"I look forward to relishing in our new friendship Mister Omul," said Kili cheerfully. They grasped hands and slapped their free ones on top in a hearty handshake. "And in our new friendship, if I beat you at any sort of game again, you cannot come after me with vengeance."

"I make no promises,"

Kili's face brightened instantly and he drew his sword, knowing he would be the same also. He moved into the ring, ready to begin. "Shall we begin?"

"Most certainly," replied Omul with his new sword in hand.

Rhul went to the fence and took her spot there. She grinned at her brother and the dark-haired dwarf, knowing their friendship would last a life time. Omul was not one to forget a friend because he cherished those that mattered most. In a life of traveling, true friends counted.

* * *

The days went quickly for the Ironfoot siblings. The two of them began to show their colors as they moved about helping and selling where they could. They were never restful and were always willing to give their service with a small incentive.

Kili and Omul traded tactics back and forth daily. Omul showed the younger lad the stronger hacking and thrusting moves the Ironfoots favored and Kili in turn helped him on the old Erebor warrior skills he possessed. They would meet up when Fili was away, sometimes training late into the day till lanterns were needed to see. Other days they would go off hunting and Kili showed Omul his skills with the bow.

Dis would sometimes wonder where he youngest son went off to when she awoke and he was not there. He usually was out doing something with Omul or had awoken early to get a head start on what needed to be done. On such a day, she was in the markets, checking how everything was going for Fili's Coming of Age celebration. Currently, she was at Bombour's wife's bakery and talking to her about the food she wanted for the celebration.

"Throuda, have you seen Kili as of late?" she asked when the baker returned with her checklist of items to go over.

"I can't say that I have," she replied, brushing flour off her curly auburn side burns. She handed the checklist to Dis. "Let me ask one of my bairns." She turned and shouted into the kitchen with a harsh and commanding shriek.

"Bruda! Have you seen Kili? Lady Dis is looking for him!"

Dis winced at Throuda's noise. A little Dwarrow came rushing out of the kitchen, apron swishing against the floor. She was just a bairn with fiery red hair in two tight braids down her back.

"Yes Mum. I saw him with the two dwarves with the strong accents everyone has been talking about. They were heading to Huri's stables," replied little Bruda.

"Thank you darling," smiled Throuda. "Run along now and make sure to keep your Da out of the sweets."

She nodded and skipped back into the kitchen. Throuda quickly went over the list with Dis and made sure everything was in order. Dis paid half of the bill in advance and thanked the baker.

"Seems quite strange for your son to be out with them Ironfoots all the time," observed Throuda, leaning on the counter.

"He's become good friends with them since they share many common interests," answered Dis.

"The sister, I believe Rhul was her name, she's done a lot of good around here. Helped boost the leather shops sales by tenfold and she knows how to fetch splendid deals. Quite a well-rounded lassie from what I've heard. Is she being courted by anyone do you know?"

Dis thought back on her conversations with Rhul over the last few days. Never had the young dwarrowdam mentioned a courter or any sort of engagement with a dwarf.

"If she isn't, she would be a good match for Kili, if I was to guess anything," jumped in Throuda. "Since Thuri has her sights set on Fili." She said it in such a way as if it was the hottest gossip to ever pass her lips. Throuda was known to pass gossip around to the other Dwarrows, being a baker made it easy to do so. Dis hoped the gossip hadn't gone main stream yet, she had already dealt with years of chinwag about Fili and Thuri and she didn't need any more so close to Fili's Age Day.

Dis bristled at the thought and her cold demeanor she shared with her brother crept in. "I would suggest you keep your opinions to yourself, Throuda. I will not allow such talk to go around."

"My apologies, Lady Dis," said Throuda backing down, she wished to not push the noble further and anger her.

The raven haired dwarrowdam nodded sharply and left the baker, feeling agitated. Her business was done with Throuda for the day.

For years, a beautiful Dwarrowdam by the name of Thuri had pursued Fili in marriage. She was beautiful, came from a wealthy banker's family and could influence people with more sway than others. In a lot of ways she was a good match for an Heir to the Throne, but Dis and Thorin and Fili all hated her. She was snobby and pushy and thought herself to be the center of everything like a beautiful jewel. Her real and ugly personality was always tucked away behind a mask around those of the more common folk.

Fili had repeatedly told her no in all sorts of manners, but she never gave up. Thorin had yet to threaten her to leave, he resisted because it would look bad on the delicate situation if he did so. Those in the markets and mines who lived to gossip (which was only a small percentage) thought Thuri and Fili were meant to be. They egged Thuri on and she gladly took the rumors to the extremes at time.

Over the years the pursuit had lessened but with Fili's Age Day so close and with the need for him to determine if he was to marry or not, she was beginning again her efforts. Dis knew her son that he wanted to wed, but not to a dwarrow like Thuri. He was considering not marrying at all from any dwarrow in the area because of her.

Dis walked down the market street, head held high as she stirred the biting frustration in her heart. Speaking of Durin's Bane, Thuri came into her sight with her sapphire blue dress and jewelry weaved into her dark hair, a perfect smile below her big nose.

"Lady Dis!"

"_Mahal help me," _thought Dis when a sigh escaped her and she had to fight back an eye roll. She squared her shoulders and faced the young lass, putting on a kind front.

"Ah, Miss Thuri, how can I be of service today?" she asked and smiled tightly.

Thuri stopped and shook her great mane of dark hair, letting the jewelry chime together that dangled free in front of her ears. She wore her wealth splendidly but she was incredibly vain about it. "I have yet seen Fili and it has nearly been a week since word of the Goblin hunt coursed through the village. Do you know when he will return?"

Dis resumed her walk, hating the fact that Thuri continued to follow her. "I do not. Goblin hunts are tricky sorts and with the recent rain it would have taken them an extra day or two to track them down. But they will return by the end of the week, I am sure of it."

There was a commotion down the street and the dwarves parted like a sea when three ponies came trotting through the crowd. It was Kili, Omul, and Rhul, ready to take to the mountains for a ride.

The two lads went right by with only a glance and Kili saluting to his mother. Rhul stopped her black and white forelock pony and greet Dis with a smile. Thuri's eyes tightened when she saw Rhul but her smile never wavered on her lips. Dis saw the look and she knew the two lasses had already met before.

"Lady Dis!" greeted Rhul in a warm voice. She pulled on her pony's reins and it snorted, wanting to catch up with the others. "I apologize for taking Kili away this morning, but we had scheduled a mountain trip this morning and we must be going. We will return by tomorrow morning though."

"I remember him mentioning it before, Rhul," said Dis, grateful for the distraction. "Enjoy your fun and try not to injure yourselves while you're at it."

"We will try our best not to," said Rhul in a cheerful voice. "Good day, Lady Dis and Thuri."

She spurred her pony forward and the mare took off to join the others. The lads had stopped for a moment but turned their ponies around when they saw she was finally catching up. They turned west and met up with one of Huri's boys before they hit the logging path Boruk frequently used and began to climb the mountain.

"Have you been acquainted with Rhul?" asked Dis. She was curious about the look of anger around Thuri's eyes. In her opinion, the angry look on her face was priceless and it only highlighted her ugliness.

"I have met her once or twice about only a day or two ago," she replied sweetly. "She is a kind and responsible lass, nearly all those my age have met the Ironfoots."

Except for Fili and he will never get to meet her, was the underlining message to her words.

Dis gave her a look, her mother's intuition sensing something hadn't gone smoothly with Thuri accepting Rhul. She knew Thuri saw something in Rhul that Fili may possibly like and he may decide to go for her instead of Thuri. Dis wasn't for sure, he son had yet to return home and meet the Rhul, but she would be open to the possibility.

* * *

After a week and a half of being away from home, Fili finally returned with Dwalin and the warriors. Their hunt had been successful and they had exterminated all the Goblins hiding in the area. Dwalin, not surprisingly, had killed the most, but Fili and the four others were not too far behind him. They rode past the watchtower after spending most of the time in the mountain valley with the two great stones on the mountain peaks only two days before his Age Day. Many of the warriors promised Fili a drink for his ingenuity for finding the tracks; they were all in an excellent mood.

They said he would make a great leader one day with a quick mind like his. Dwalin even promised to pay for the first three rounds of drinks.

Fili returned home with a belly full of hot drink once he had turned in his pony to Huri. The stable master and he had a close relationship and he said his brother and the two Ironfoots had just returned that afternoon from a trip into the mountains. They had brought back two big bucks for his family to turn into jerky to last the summer.

This intrigued Fili, it sounded as if his younger brother was already making good friends and the travelers had stayed longer than he originally thought. He looked forward to asking his brother about what was going on in the last couple of days.

When Fili came through his front door it was still early in the night, he had left Dwalin and his warriors just as the ale drinking was beginning to get crazy. Dis was there suddenly with a bear crushing hug that nearly squeezed the life out of him when he walked through the front door.

"You're finally home! My golden haired prince had returned!" she pulled him back and quickly checked him over. "And not without a scratch I see!"

Fili fought the blush creeping to his ears. He sat down his satchel by the weapons rack and started pulling out his many knives to hang up once he broke away from his mother's hug. "Mum, why do you have to do that?"

"I do it because you're not of Age just yet," she said eyes filled with mirth.

"In two days I will be a Dwarf fully of Age," he said, joining her in the kitchen.

"It doesn't matter, I am still your mother," she said. "Now go wash up, I've kept the bath warm for you."

Fili picked up his satchel and went to his bedroom. Kili's door was open, his stuff all put away, and he stood shirtless in his night trousers, practicing sword techniques Fili had never seen. He watched him for a moment as Kili swung back and forth and with an invisible sword and a concentrated look on his face.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked from the doorway.

Kili stopped his movements and his face brightened when he saw his brother. They embraced warmly and Kili pulled back, looking eye to eye with one of his most favorite people in the world. His nose wrinkled and he sniffed loudly.

"You stink Fili," was Kili's first words to him.

Fili brushed his brother off. "It is not my fault I've spent my entire week traveling through the woods and back. If you think I'm bad you should smell Dwalin."

They share a laugh and Dis smiled from the kitchen where she was fixing Fili some dinner.

"How many kills did you make?" asked Kili.

The blonde dug around in his bag and pulled out a beaten Goblin helmet. It was poorly made, jagged, and a rusty red color of uncured iron. "Nine was my count. Mister Dwalin scored eleven, which is not a surprise. It would have been more if we didn't bring a party of six."

Kili examined the helmet, turning it this way and that careful of the sharp edges. "This does not belong to any normal scavenger."

"No," replied Fili firmly to the statement. "Turns out those Iron Hill dwarves were ambushed by the first half of the pack, the ones without the better weapons and armor. The rest were hidden in the Wet Caves north of here with nearly four dozen in waiting. They were planning to raid the farmers below."

"That explains why you stink," Kili wrinkled his nose again and handed the helmet back to his brother. The Wet Caves were a foul smelling place with the constant water and decay-like smell and mold. If you entered all of your clothes would be soiled with the stench. "You will have to tell me more about it tomorrow, after you wash up."

They departed and Fili went to the storage room where his bath was waiting. Dwarves didn't need a room dedicated to bathing because they did not bathe often like other races. He thanked his mother for keeping it warm; it would feel great on his stiff muscles.

He returned to his bedroom after eating the meal his mother prepared for him. She had already left the house, most likely to find Thorin and see what his plans for the night were. Fili stood near the window of his bedroom, listening to the quiet sounds of Ered Luin that drifted behind the shutters.

He felt a glimmer of pride in his heart for his well accomplished week. His doubts had been erased away with the trip and he now knew he was ready to turn of Age, there was no doubt about it.

Fili changed into his night clothes and sat his satchel on his desk. He was about to blow out the candle when a journal slid out. He stopped, remembering the saddles and extra bags he had dropped off with Huri. The items belonged to the Ironfoots and he found a journal in the sand when the party returned to the caves on their journey back home. Fili had meant to leave the journal with Huri, but he figured he would be able to find the dwarf to who it belonged to and give it to him directly.

Fili pulled the worn leather binding away for the pack, curious to see who it actually belonged to. He opened the first page and was greeted with a bold title in slanted blue ink.

_**The Long Road Home Volume 2**_

_The Journey of Rhul_

_Continuing the story of life after the incident_

He paused at the title page, wondering who this Rhul was and what incident he was writing about, if it was a dwarf and not a dwarrow. Fili had only heard of the Ironfoots as the Ironfoots, there was no names attached to who was the brother or the sister and Dwalin never spoke of them. Fili wondered if he had forgotten their names over the course of the hunt.

He knew he should not continue reading, it was a journal and private matters were best to be left alone. But something in his heart stirred and he decided he could read a few pages, only because the book invited him as if it was to be read on a later date. Like a personal account of history after the sacking of Erebor, if that was the incident they wrote about.

He turned the page and began reading. The first entry was dated ten years ago.

_I begin a second journal, after completing my first one with great fervor. Omul laughs at me because he thinks writing what happens in our lives is a waste of time. I believe it is not, we are the next generation after our parents and it is our duty to write what happens until we are able to reclaim our homelands that rightfully belong to us. Then new songs will be written and we will become history. Until then we are left to wonder and hope for a better future. _

_Erebor, Moria, they are our homelands. In my travels I have passed them, each time I do there is a tugging in my heart like none other I have faced. I call it the Call of Home. There is no better explanation and father feels it also when he is with us. I've written a poem to help describe the feeling._

_Through river, root and stone  
The distant call of home  
So far yet always with us  
Inside our hearts and bones_

_No breadth or sphere_  
_Or white mountains sheer_  
_Can quell the call of home_

_There is no hearth that is quite as bright_  
_As a flame that flickers free_  
_Though many roads lay outside my door_  
_There is but one that calls to me_

_Long I locked away_  
_A wanderer's heart_  
_A flame that flickers free_

_Through river, root and stone_  
_The distant call of home_  
_So far yet always with us_  
_Inside our hearts and bones_

_No creek or cave_  
_No wild wind or wave_  
_Can quell the call of home_

_Through river, root and stone_  
_The distant call of home_  
_So far yet always with us_  
_Inside our hearts and bones_

_So soft the call of home_

* * *

Fili's Age Day passed with a big celebration. Many of their friends came and many of the guards and other Blue Mountain residents came to congratulate Fili and give him gifts. Thuri was there too, dressed in a striking emerald green dress with fox fur along the collar and hem of the dress and a heavy emerald necklace and headband. She looked ridiculous in Fili's opinion and he ignored her until she absolutely cornered him for attention. Thankfully Kili chased her away without meaning too, she did not have a very high opinion about his brother and Fili did not appreciate that.

When rock sweets, roasted boar, and the cases of ale were cracked open, Kili began to think Omul and Rhul were not coming. He had invited them to the party two days ago, after clearing it with his brother. He wanted Fili to meet the Ironfoots, to connect a dwarf to the many adventures they had the past week, but they had yet to show.

As the celebration began to come to a close, Kili accept that they would not be attending. It would later turn out Omul injured his knee while he was helping Boruk cut logs that very day. He had been pinned beneath a stack of logs when the toppled and Boruk feared his knee to be broken. He was whisked away to the Healing House without another word. Rhul had been at Boruk's house getting ready for the celebration and making sure everything was packed to leave in the morning when the logger dwarf arrived and told her the news. She ran straight away to Omul and would not leave him to attend the celebration.

She kept him company as she weaved and sewed together a leather quiver and strap. They had missed the celebration entirely and were forced to put on another week before leaving to head back home. Omul's knee was only bruised very badly and Oin wanted to give him plenty of time to heal so he would be fit for riding. The short-haired dwarf was happy to stay for a little longer, but the two of them were both longing to return home, they had been gone for three months and left on short notice.

While they waited and tripled checked all their supplies and finished extra business, Rhul went with Boruk to help with their boarding fee. The dwarf insisted that they would be fine. They've done more work than even his apprentice did in the first place. But she wanted to help while her brother could not, saying it was his wish for her to keep busy and not worry about him. And many of her customers had caught word she was staying for a week and they were already lining up to schedule their next commission. She wanted an escape from the busy work she had been doing for the past two week, so she helped with lunches and drove the oxen as they pulled boulders to clear a pathway for a new road.

Kili was able to introduce Fili to Omul, but Rhul was nowhere to be found. Omul was out resting in front of the Healing House when the Durin brother's arrived the next day. Omul had been given strict instructions to not leave, so he abided by them so he would be able to be on his feet soon.

Fili instantly liked Omul. He was open and friendly to his brother and the three of them reencountered their adventures in great detail. It saddened Fili that he would only get to know him for a few days before he had to leave.

Fate would have it that Fili and Rhul would not meet until later. Their schedules differed between the two of them and they were never able to meet up in person, until it was just about time to leave.

* * *

It had nearly been a week since Fili's Age Day and Thorin was grateful his heir was able pass the age of eighty. Fili had grown into a strong, confident and purposeful dwarf and he possessed many qualities of a great leader. Thorin knew he would become a great king one day.

Thorin thought much about the younger generation of Dwarves nowadays. His nephews and many others like Gimli and the Ironfoot siblings prompted him to think about his people's future. They did not carry the burden of losing a homeland they only knew the pain and strife through stories. The younger generations were growing up out of core tradition of the Dwarves and they did not know what it was like to live in a Kingdom with vast wealth and stone halls. Thorin could see it was not a bad thing; they were wiser and far more skilled than most Dwarves their age a hundred and fifty years ago.

But it pained Thorin when he knew they would not have what he had.

For the past three weeks he had thought much about his father and the evidence he was given to his survival. He debated if he should go and look for him or not. But now he had finally come to a decision, at the end of the week he would leave and search for his father in Dunland. Since Thrain would have done it for him.

Thorin knew he had to go looking for his father, because if he did not, it would eat him alive from the inside out. The unknown frightened him, even though he never admitted it.

Thorin quickly made arrangements so he could leave. He left word that if Balin returned the Council and he would watch over the city while he was away. Thorin knew he would be gone for a couple of months, as the journey would require. He would make sure to go alone, to keep quiet from the unsavory characters that would like nothing more than to end his life.

But what he didn't know was that there would be two familiar dwarves leaving the day after him for the same destination, south of the Misty Mountains to Dunland.

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**There will be more journal entires to come. Rhul's journal is written in such a way it is to be a personal book, so she won't mind it terribly if someone reads it. (Fili!) **

**Thuri is my favorite. She showed up after I saw Cinderlla (2015). She is a lot of ways like the step sisters and continues to make Fili's life miserable. She is beautiful on the outside but is hideous in. More of her to come! **

**Why Rhul refused to leave her brother's side is connected to why they became quite when talking about a family friend at Dis' dinner. But that reveal comes far later in the story, you'll just have to wait. **

**Please review! I've worked really hard on these last few chapters and I'd love to hear your comments. They push me forward to do better.**


	6. We Say Farewell but Will Return

**Another chapter up so soon? That's right! More to come because I'm on Spring Break now, and I want to get this story moving. And I've hit over 1,300 views! Thank you guys! **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/Favorited/followed! You all deserve a chocolate rabbit, since Easter is right around the corner. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 6: We Say Farewell but Will Return**

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They were ready to leave by the end of the week. Omul's knee healed quickly and he was able to ride a pony without it bothering him too much. The swelling had receded but his knee was still brightly colored with bruises, to the amusement of Kili, who called it a rock candy kneecap.

In the meantime, since Omul was no longer logging anymore, he practiced with his new sword, going through the motions Kili helped him hone. Rhul, while her brother finally took a break, went to work and successfully kept away from her customers. Her customers had caught word she would be staying an extra week and many were trying to squeeze in an extra order before she left. She decided to keep away from the demanding dwarves and help Boruk while her brother was out, even when he insisted they had already done enough for him. In the meantime, Rhul focused her skills on making gifts for friends in tokens of gratitude and thanksgiving. Her good will never ceased towards her friends.

Rhul would often visit her brother in the Healing House or Boruk's when she had a moment. She would always find him there or eating at Huri's house where his wife was an excellent cook. He would never pass the chance to enjoy a home cooked meal even when he wasn't hungry.

Both Kili and Omul felt it was time for their siblings to greet each other since neither had the opportunity yet. Omul would always ask her if she'd seen Fili every chance there was moment for the topic to come up.

"I really am trying, Omul," she pleaded at his stern look. Feeling irked with his brotherly pestering. "Whenever I swing by to visit he's off doing something with his duties or caught up in the forges."

Though it may sound unbelievable, it was true. Kili coordinated with Fili to set up a place to meet up since at the moment it wasn't going to work naturally. When it looked like it was going to happen, it never worked out. This irritated Kili, he kept running each scenario through his head and he couldn't find what was causing the fumble.

"It may be possible Durin wishes us to not be friends," suggested Fili one evening after hearing his brother grumble about his misgivings.

"Nonsense!" shouted Kili with that determined gleam in his eye. "It makes no sense why you would not be able too. There must be another dwarf involved in keeping the two of you apart."

It would take him a few days to realize it but Kili was right about a third person party. This was not fate playing a game, but a dwarf desperately trying to keep Fili and Rhul from meeting in person.

Thuri had her jewel-encrusted hand in many things and it was said she could be very persuasive amongst folks. She was able to drop notes to dwarves which would in turn keep Fili busy with meaningless tasks in the forges. It was getting to the point where Fili was becoming frustrated with the unexpected chores and requests. She could see his frustration under his collected and unselfish personality. There were the moments when he would grit his teeth and sigh heavily or snap off a quick comment without realizing it and quickly apologize. Thuri would smile and look past her golden heart's frustration, even though it was her own doing. She could not allow that perfect Ironfoot wench to come near her prince and ruin everything.

For years she had courted Fili and for years he had ignored her and told her "no" in all manners of politeness and irritation. She would ebb with her questioning over the years, knowing he would someday see reason that she was the one for him, before resuming again. She may be a handful of years older than him but she was wealthy – being the daughter of a banker – good with folks and a perfect match for any dwarf-lord.

And yet he did not see reason.

If he would not have her, he would not have any dwarrowdam from the Blue Mountains. That phrase became her vow, her goals and her drive and need. It was a twisted sense of reality and heartbreak for Thuri and a very unlikable characteristic of a dwarrow. But her mask was tight to her face and everyone only saw what she wanted them to see. Thuri's mask may look brilliant, but her heart was warped with the desire to marry a prince or a dwarf-lord high on the social order to improve her own standing.

When she had met Rhul – just the very thought of her makes her gag – she saw an ordinary dwarrow with little show for the finer arts of Dwarvish culture. Rhul did not dress the most lavish with the heavy skirts, hairstyles or gems; she was a slender traveler, roughened by the weather with no desirable curves in her strong face. Rhul did in fact look plain but it was her character than added the many facets of color, life, and respect to her being.

Thuri spoke with her days ago, she was curious to see who Rhul was and what sort of competition she may present. Rhul was a diverse character with a dense background and a caring heart. She had scars in her past that Thuri could not compete with and it only added more to her likeableness that dwarves would be intrigued by. The more she talked with her the more she realized how much Fili could love the Rhul if it ever came to that.

As a selfish, careless, and somewhat vain dwarrowdam beneath her mask, Thuri was not the type for Fili. She knew he wanted to wed and he had told her what he was looking in a dwarrow that may not be his One. He wanted someone who was compassionate, loyal and brave with a love for family and a desire to help others. He knew he would someday be King, and he wanted a partner that would in turn become a great Queen.

His listed attributes were the opposites of Thuri's and it hurt to know that she could never fit the bill. She kept reasoning in her mind that he would see reason eventually; a King would need an heir to continue the line anyway. She only had to keep trying until she was absolutely banished by Thorin or Fili found what he was looking for.

She knew he would see something in Rhul, it was inevitable. So Thuri would not let them interact the entire time the Ironfoot wench was staying. And with the week nearly up, she knew she had succeeded.

…

It was the night before the Ironfoots were ready to leave. They were visiting Huri at his place with his family and Boruk. In three weeks, which was an incredibly short time for dwarves, they all had become a close knit group with lifelong relationships. That night it was a sort of celebration and good-bye gathering all in one.

Dinner was cooked by Huri's wife, Bazik and her daughter Haz. It was a delicious meal of pork roast and deer meat with fresh rolls, cakes, baked potatoes, trout and biscuits, apple cider and ginger drinks. Omul nearly salivated at the sight of food when he came in. He swept Bazik in a hug between his strong arms and kissed her forehead in gratitude, thanking her for his last meal before a long journey of biscuits and jerky. He caught her completely by surprise and she laughed and waved the young lad off, fighting an embarrassing blush off her cheeks.

"Never have I seen a dwarf so excited for your wife's cooking," remarked Boruk from the study where he and Huri enjoyed a pipe.

"If more dwarves knew about my wife's cooking, they would already be lined up in front of the door begging for one of her rolls," replied Huri with a snigger. "I've never been fed better in my entire life. It's a good think we share active occupations or we otherwise would've grown fat by now."

Dinner commenced in the kitchen where a long table was set up to accommodate eight dwarves. The hearth was blazing and candles danced along the rafters as songs were sung and the dwarvish ruckus commenced.

Huri had four children: Hazdor who was only a decade younger than Rhul and just about Gloin's son Gimli's age; Haz, a beautiful lass with auburn hair and freckles (like the rest of her family); and there were also the twin boys, Umik and Bumik. Hazdor was a magnificent horse handler like his father; Haz enjoyed cooking and helping her mother, and the twins had a spotless repetition of _always_ stealing the kitchen sweets and sugar cubes. Bazik had her hands full with her children, but she loved each and every one of them and made sure she opened her home to Omul and Rhul whenever they liked.

"When do you think you will be back?" asked Hazdor as dinner began to wind down. He looked directly at Omul, who was turning into an idol for the young dwarf. "I am going to miss our rides into the mountains."

Omul pushed away his plate and noticed all the eyes on him, waiting for his answer. "It's hard to say, Hazdor. We never planned on coming in the first place."

Hazdor and Haz's eyes dropped and the picked at their plates, knowing the Ironfoots would most likely never be coming back. The way he said it, it sounded to the children as if it were a mistake in coming here in the first place.

"But," Omul said his voice hitting a higher and more intriguing note. "That doesn't mean we won't be coming back. Speaking coin-wise, we can always find good profit here and our people would enjoy seeing distant cousins again. I, myself would love to return. It may take a few years Hazdor, but I look forward to the day I see the Blue Mountains again."

All the children brightened and they chatted amongst themselves happily. Huri and Bazik shared a look and smiled to themselves.

"What say you, Rhul?" asked Boruk. He normally wasn't a talkative dwarf and he enjoyed listening to what others had to say.

"What say I? Why else would I have made these promise bracelets if I weren't returning?" she pulled a pouch from the pocket of her skirt and dumped its contents on the table. Leather bracelets cut into strips with threads of colorful wool in gemstone green, red, and blue were braided together with silver beads. Promise bracelets were a gift children would make to give to those they carried about and would like to be friends with.

Rhul's gift held great meaning and all of Huri's children instantly crowded around her. They picked their favorites and dragged Rhul from the table demanding she show them how she made hers. Her skilled fingers quickly threaded and finished one and she handed it to Umik and told him to slip it in Boruk's pocket when he wasn't looking. The little dwarf nodded eagerly with glowing cheeks, and then his brother asked her to play with them one of their new favorite games: Goblin raid.

She was instantly wrapped up in the game, facing down two energetic bows. Umik and Bumik ran into the study with their play swords and she ran after them, making goblin noises and clawed hands. The two boys squealed when she caught up with them and they hit her skirts with their swords, yelling "Attack! Attack the she-Goblin!" in Khuzdul.

Boruk chuckled at their playing and he stroked his long black beard. "She is good with the young ones," he observed.

"They only like her because she gives them presents," mentioned Omul, pointing out what was obvious to him.

"So does Bifur, and yet you don't find him running with the young ones," he replied thoughtfully.

Huri raised an eyebrow at Boruk. "He has an axe in his head, some may find it a disturbing trait for the toymaker," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Don't be picking on Bifur," Bazik cut in with her mother-tone. "He means well but we all know he is somewhat of a wildcard. I once saw him kick that annoying tom cat sky high when it didn't leave his path quick enough."

They snickered at the imagery. Everyone who worked at the stables hated that tom because it thought it to be the ruler of the roost and no one could say otherwise. Huri remembered the scene quite well because he heard the cat hit the roof when it came back down, but sadly its nine lives were not up yet.

"Omul," said Huri quite kindly, catching the lad's attention. He had one elbow on the table with a hand on the back of his wife's chair. "I've picked out two of my best ponies for you to take tomorrow when you leave. Spurt and Pinenut will serve you well."

"You're letting them take the ponies the children named?" asked Bazik in slight alarm. "You know how they've grown attached to them. They will be devastated."

Huri shrugged. "I told them not to name them in the first place. It's only business and besides Omul has agreed to leave their big horns with us to start a new herd. It will be a good exchange for us and Hazdor needs the practice with training rams."

"I see your reasoning, but you will have to explain it to them," she sighed and took a drink from her mug. "Omul, has Rhul gained any suitors from her stay here?" she wondered.

The short haired dwarf rolled his neck and looked at the ceiling. "Not that I know of, there have been a few showing interest but I think she has turned them down, or hasn't acknowledge them yet."

"I am surprised she hasn't found a courter yet," she stated. "I would have thought more dwarves would be interested."

"Don't get me wrong, they show their affection towards her. She chooses to not acknowledge them because she is looking for someone special."

And by that, everyone knew what he was meaning. A Dwarf's only and true One, the love of their life and in a lot of ways their soul mate.

"Do you think she will find someone here?" asked Huri, curious about the lad's insight.

"Something tells me she might. She's set on finding her One and she's looked through the many settlements we've visited on our travels."

"Well we wish her the best of luck because there are many fine dwarves here," Bazik said warmly. She looked again at the dark blonde lass, knowing one day she would make a very fine wife to a very lucky dwarf.

…

The next day, around Dis' kitchen table it was incredibly quiet as the Durin Heirs ate their breakfast. Fili and Dis kept exchanging looks while Kili glared at his sausage rolls and biscuits. They wondered what his problem was. Fili could take it no longer. He set down his knife and turned to his brother and demanded what the matter was.

The dark-haired dwarf leaned back in his chair, sighing and pressing a palm to his forehead. "I don't understand it. I've tried all week to give you the opportunity but every time it has been foiled. I've thought it through and I can't seem to see what the matter is."

"What is the matter?" asked Dis looking over a few letters that arrived that morning.

"Fili hasn't meet Rhul yet,"

She looked up sharply and locked eyes with Fili. "You haven't had a chance to meet her? Why Fili what have you been doing all week?"

Fili shrugged, feeling like he should defend himself. "Nothing out of the ordinary besides the unending tasks I'm given in the forges. Something always comes up and it's beginning to really frustrate me."

"Seems like Thuri's been around you a lot lately," stated Kili, rolling the sausage between his fingers and watching the grease drop to his plate.

Dis bristled and a hint of Throin's legendary anger entered her face, hardening her features. "That girl, I swear she's always up in your business Fili. Why haven't you told me before?"

"Never occurred to me," he answered truthfully.

"I only noticed it yesterday," supplied Kili.

"Well then, I suggest you both be there before they leave. At least you Fili, then you would be able to meet the lass face-to-face. It has occurred to me that if Thuri is trying to keep a dwarrow away from you, then I think you will like her very much,"

Fili accepted his mother's words, thinking back on the journal entries he'd been reading from Rhul's book. Though he had yet to make an opinion on her for himself, he already liked the dwarrow on the pages with her thoughts and recordings of her everyday life. He only wasn't sure if they were the same person yet.

"If she's anything like Thuri, I will not be interested."

"I can assure you brother," said Kili confidently. "She is nothing like that up-tight dwarrow." He patted a hand on his brother's arm.

…

At Huri's stables, Spurt and Pinenut were already saddled up in the Ironfoots original tackle and an extra pony stood by for previsions. With their merchandise sold and pouches heavy with gold and silver coins and letters to other dwarves south of the Misty Mountains filling their saddle bags, Omul and Rhul were ready to leave Ered Luin. If not a little reluctantly.

"This is it, were finally leaving," said Rhul as she tightened her pony's saddle. Spurt was the beautiful black and white forelock mare she had ridden a couple days earlier to the mountains. The pony's shaggy mane was braided into a board of diamond shapes, thanks to Haz. Rhul could see the flecks of white along her mare's neck when she rubbed a gloved hand down her neck, and she knew her pony was a fine one indeed.

"A week's delay probably did us more good than harm," replied Omul from his own pony. Pinenut refused to pull her nose from the empty bag of grain, looking for extra kernels. He yanked on the dark chestnut and blonde mane's bridle and she burped loudly in protest. "Seems like we have more than one thing in common," he observed at Pinenut's behavior.

Rhul laughed, her soft square face peeking over her pony's back. "And what would that be?"

"Our love for good food," he shot her a sly look, gauging her reaction with sharp blue eyes.

His sister smiled and scoffed at her brother's antics.

"You think they will see us off?" he asked. Outside the sun was rising above the Blue Mountains but the light was hidden behind clouds along the ridgeline. It was a beautiful day and they planned on leaving before noon to get a good start on the road. It was now late May and the perfect time for traveling long distances. If they traveled quickly they knew they would make it to Dunland by late July or early August.

"Of course they will," said Huri from where he was brushing a pony next to them. Kip and Sook, Omul and Rhul's old rams stuck their heads out from their stalls; brown eyes intently watching their former masters prepare to leave. "I told Dis you would be leaving just about this time."

"Goodness gracious!" Rhul exclaimed. "I've almost forgotten!"

"Forgotten what?" her brother asked alarmed. He picked up his old sword and tied the scabbard to his saddle along with his newly purchased bedroll.

"Kili's gift," she looked through her saddle bags but could not find it. She slapped the cover close and searched her memories, thinking where she last had it. She remembered she had left it in a chest back at Boruk's place.

"You better run off and get it because he's coming down the road now," said Huri looking through the barn window. Kili was talking animatedly with his eldest son, most likely about hunting spots for the summer.

She looked out the window and then out the other door of the stables that faced Boruk's place a couple hundred yards away. "I'll be back," she took off, boots bounding the dirt.

Rhul had made Kili a new quiver. She had seen his old one and how the bottom was nearly falling to pieces with arrows peeking out along the seams. She knew dwarves preferred to make their own weapons, scabbards and belts, but she couldn't help but make one for him. Rhul hoped he would like it, even if it weren't made by his own hands. Omul reassured her that he would absolutely love it.

Sprinting as fast as she could, she reached Boruk's place just as he was leaving to head to the stables. She paid no heed to him and ran through the backdoor in a flash, looking for the chest where Kili's gift was. Rhul threw it open and inside was the quiver.

It was dark leather, almost black, with reinforced casing for his metal arrow heads. On the quiver there was a clip for his bow and a slip for his sword so he could ride without any weapons on his belt or in his hands. It had a beautiful strap of interlocking patterned skin to match Kili's motif, completed with silver studs polished to shine. It was functional, perfect for traveling, and multi-purpose. In every way fit for Kili and for a warrior prince.

She grabbed it and ran, knowing he would already be there.

Rhul ran past the oxen and they lifted their large heads to greet her and the tom cat jumped from the fence with a hiss. She'd worked with the laboring beasts many times before and she couldn't help but marvel at their incredible strength and soft eyes.

Rounding the fence corner she hit the angled morning sunlight which nearly blinded her. She couldn't see anything besides blinding light when suddenly there was a sturdy body in front of her, coming the other way. There was no time to throw on the brakes and they collided like two rams butting the other.

Two bodies slammed to the ground in a pile of tangled limbs and brick dust in their faces. Kili's quiver bounced away from the tangle, unscratched in the grass. The oxen made a snort at their collision, before lumber away with their clicking hooves. Rhul rolled to her back and sat up, trying to reorient herself and clear her head. She'd hit that other dwarf harder than she originally thought.

When she looked up, her breath left her body in a hot whoosh and her spine tingled with electricity. She was looking into some of the clearest blue eyes she had ever seen. They belonged to a selfless and heroic face, with a noble nose and eyebrows. His beard was cut short with a hint of red to it and a braided mustache dangled from the corners of quirked lips. His hair was golden, like the color of wheat on a sunny day, and it waved and curled along his braids that ran by his ears, framing his handsome face. This was the Heir to the Throne of Durin after Thorin Oakenshild, and his name was Fili.

"I'm sorry, I did not see you there," Rhul apologized after she caught her breath. She looked away, not wanting the stranger to catch her staring so intently. She couldn't help it; there was this sense of awe when she looked at him as if he was one of the most fascinating things she had ever seen.

He dusted himself off and rose to his feet, not bothered at all. He must be a warrior if their collision had no effect on him; warriors were built tough to last blows like that. "There is no harm done…," he paused, not knowing her name. He extended a hand to help her to her feet and she accepted it graciously, feeling another zap of electricity spark through their joined hands.

"Rhul… Rhul is my name," she offered and he smiled, his face instantly brightening with two dimples at the corner of his beard.

"Fili," he greeted warmly, his accent sounding like music to her ears. "My brother has spoken much about you, good things I can assure you. He's been trying to arrange for us to meet all week."

"Yes, same as I," she smiled awkwardly and felt the heat in her cheeks. "Omul's trained with you many times while I have been busy. He says you are a formidable warrior with your double-blades. It is a skill hasn't seen often among dwarves."

She couldn't believe that the dwarf in front of her was the Fili she had heard so much about over the last few weeks. Kili had shared endless stories about his brother and Omul spoke highly about the golden haired dwarf. He wasn't everything she thought him to be, he was more than she could ever imagine.

Rhul grabbed Kili's quiver from the ground and dusted it off. She could feel Fili's eyes watching her like a hawk, but they were not predatory at all rather they were inquiring and soft. They shared another look, long and drawn out, a silent conversation moving between them. They did not know how to react or how to break away, but they both felt an attraction that was unfamiliar.

"Brother!" exclaimed Kili coming into view. He broke the moment and the two blonde's both turned away, secretly grateful.

"I see it that you've met the wonderful Rhul?" he said after catching up with them. His dark eyes searched their faces and he noticed they kept looking at each other shyly. He raised an eyebrow at his brother, normally Fili never acted like a shy lad around dwarrows.

Rhul's face flushed again and she snuck another glance at the blonde brother. She broke her wandering thoughts and directed her attention to Kili. "Kili, I have something for you."

She pulled the quiver into view and Kili's face dropped in shock, mouth slightly agape.

"It's a gift, a token of gratitude for all you've done for us," she said as he gently picked it up and ran his hands along the leather binding, dark eyes glowing.

"It's beautiful Rhul," he laughed weekly and turned the quiver over, examining the triple stitching in the material. "I don't know what to say." He was astonished, completely caught by surprise by her good will.

"Accept it and take good care of it Kili," she suggested. The sound of hooves on the brick caught their attention and they turned to see Omul walking with Pinenut and Spurt and the extra pony behind Rhul's pony.

"It's time Rhul, we best be going," he said.

A look of sadness ghosted over Rhul's face, she wanted to whine and argue to not go, which surprised her. She drew a deep breath and faced the Durin brothers, reeling in her dancing emotions. "Thank you so much for allowing us to stay here," she looked directly at Fili. "I'm sorry I didn't have anything for you, I didn't know what you were like in person. But I look forward to returning again in a few years. Words cannot simply express how I feel."

Fili had to agree with her. In that moment something had changed, a new connection was formed and neither of them understood it at all. The power of that first look was fading, the electricity between them was returning to a soft pulsing in their chests.

She mounted Spurt and they turned their animals around to see Huri, his family and Boruk grouped together with varying emotions on their faces. Huri looked proud, Boruk slightly worried, and Bazik had the look of a mother sending off her children. Hazdor was hopeful, pulling a brave face for his siblings; Haz was holding back tears and the twins were quiet.

Fili and Kili stood together, shoulder to shoulder. To Omul, he was leaving behind two friends he had grown close to through training and sword fights and the hours spent in the Healing House. Omul would remember them; he had promised he would write when he could and he knew if they ever needed his help he would come.

To Rhul, she was leaving behind Dis and Bazik, two dwarrows she had learned to love and four young dwarves she cared for. She also was leaving behind a dwarf she never had met in person, but she knew he would not stray from her thoughts.

"This is farewell," said Omul in strong Khuzdul. "I promised you we will return. Until then, our friendship will reside with you, and the fire will resume."

Rhul fought the tears that sprang in her eyes, and her gaze drifted again to Fili, subconsciously. She now regretted being busy the past week. She wished she had gotten the chance to get to know him in person.

Without another word they turned their ponies and headed down the road. Rhul kept turning around to look for Fili and Kili until they disappeared from sight. The brothers did not move until they were only small figures in the distance.

"When do you think we will return?" she inquired, facing forward on her pony.

"And why is that?" he asked, eyes focused on the road and rising sun.

"Because I might have left something special here," she said quietly, unsure about her own words.

Her brother glanced at her and the look regret on her face. His eyes widened slightly and he grinned at her, trying to lighten the mood.

"You're not the only one Rhul."

Onward the road wound through the Blue Mountains. They set a quick pace and took the time to memorize the path and landscape as they traveled out of the valley and headed east. Blue spruce pines and granite rocks rose along the ridges, a testament to how the mountains received their name. The air was soft and the sound of adventure wove through the wind, with the soft lulling of the call of home from the east. The sunlight rolled like the ocean as the clouds left soaring shadows across the mountains and lands. In a matter of an hour, the grand valley of the Blue Mountain Dwarves was hidden from view by the slopes of the mountain in the canyon. In the distance as they began their trek downward from the steps of the highlands, the rolling green hills of the Greenway opened into the distance. And a single raven croaked overhead, swirling above them for a moment before taking off to the distance.

In the web of time, the first of the threads began to weave together, creating knots that would anchor Omul and Rhul to the characters of Middle-earth. What they had discovered and found in the Blue Mountains would be the first step to the beginning of their long and life changing journey. They did not know they would be responsible for starting the Quest for Erebor, and in order to be a part of said Quest they had to prove their worth to another character that had left the Mountains only a day ahead of them, Thorin Oakenshield.

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**That last part is meant to go with the most awesome "journey-begins" music you can think of. Movie music is very influential on my writing. **

**And now Rhul and Fili have met! Something you all have been waiting for (I hope :D )! It was short meeting, but that's because it is meant to be short. Their relationship will slow-down for the next couple of chapters (that's because they are apart) and it will return but it will take some time to become more romantic. At least that's what I'm trying to go for. **

**Thuri is one of my favorite OCs. I'm leaving her actions to be very open so you (the reader) can imagine what you think happened. **

**And now, after this the story picks up. There will be action in the chapters and more traveling, more Omul and Rhul Stonehide history, plus Throin Oakenshield being his usual stubborn self. Also another side of the Ironfoot siblings will surface as they travel, they are not so open all the time to everyone. **

**Quick question: I will be writing some journal entries from Rhul's book to tag on the next chapters, and this will be how Fili gets to know Rhul. **_What sort of history about Omul and Rhul do you want me to cover? And what would you like to know more about them? _**Leave a review/comment so I can know!**

**Read on reader!**


	7. Onward to Dunland

**You guys are amazing! There has been 11 new followers in about 3 days! That's crazy. *gives you all cookies* Thank you! **

**And thank you to: Savage Kill and Warg Rider (guest) for reviewing the last chapter. **

**This chapter was harder for me to write, at least the part with Thorin. I was struggling with how I wanted it to go, but here it is! **

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 7: Onward to Dunland**

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_The Long Road Home – vol. 2 October: 10 years ago_

_Exciting news! Mother has requested that we return to the Iron Hills for the winter and following spring. I can honestly say that I am excited to go on another trip across the Wilds, but this time we will be leaving with the other Outpost Dwarves. We will be traveling in a group of twenty or so, with all of our baggage, ponies, rams, and dogs. Father is wary; he says groups like ours become targets for bandits and other unsavory characters. Orcs tend to attack trekkers like us. _

_It does not worry me. I have my brother and my father and many other eligible dwarves who can fight. We are the ventures of our people, a different breed among Durin's Folk. Our skin is tough and our bodies able to face the hardships of the road. We are quick sighted and not afraid to try new things, since staying stubborn will get you killed. We are valuable assets in a time of lessening strong holds, regardless if it breaks tradition._

_And besides, the past year has been good, and hopefully we will make it swiftly to Dain's strong hold with little problem. Mahal will be on our side. _

* * *

In the days that followed, the Ironfoot siblings made good time on their travels. They had already crossed several rivers and past numerous farms while on the road, and the miles steadily disappeared under their feet. They set a fast pace, paying little attention to those who sent them strange looks, for their deep hoods were pulled forward to disguise their faces and they only spoke in short, rough voices to any traveler that bade them questions.

One evening they were staying outside in a field next to a small village. Omul didn't want to pay the fee for staying indoors, so they settled staying outside with their ponies tied to a fence and the soft grass serving as a comfortable bed. The sun was setting, casting an orange twilight over the field. Omul was next to the small fire pit they had built for their roasted chicken, he was sharpening Kili's sword and examining the blade with a craftsman's eye. Rhul lay in the grass, her thick scarf up to her chin as she twiddled a blade of grass between her fingers, her mind back in the Blue Mountains.

A certain golden haired prince was on her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about him, ever since that brief moment she had with him. Kili had told her his brother was one of the most selfless, loyal, and brave people he knew. And besides the numerous stories she had heard from his brother about the trouble they got into, she did not know much about him. He was a mystery to her, but there was a lingering feeling from him that would not disappear. Her heart continued to long for the Blue Mountains begging her to return and seek him out.

"You seem awfully quiet today." her brother stated, not even looking at her.

"And why would you think that?" she stopped twiddling the grass and tilted her head back to look at her brother. "I'm always saying something."

"Not today," he scoffed, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "I've asked you probably ten questions and you only replied in one-worded answers the most of the time."

Rhul rolled over and raised herself up on one elbow. "That's not true."

"It is and you know it," he pointed the blade at her before resting it back on his lap. "Your mind has been wondering about Fili, hasn't it?" He asked softly like a big, caring brother would.

She was quiet with a slightly puzzled expression on her face. "What makes you say that?"

"I see it in your eyes. And your endless questioning about him the first day we left only proves my point," he sniggered rubbing the whet stone along the blade. "I never thought I'd see it, but here it is, my sister struck with love."

"You think I've found my One?" she asked disbelievingly, nose crinkled in denial. "That's not possible, I only knew him for minutes."

"Mum says it is. She says it only takes one look and you know. It's like a bolt of lightning zapping through you and you have this connection," he replied, thinking back on his lovely mother. "I've asked her how she knew it was Da and she said she couldn't stop thinking about him. That how I know Fili _may_ be your One. The question is if he returns your feelings. But what does it matter, my sister is falling for the dwarf I'll be saving in the future."

"You mean… you've found what you've been looking for this whole time?" she got to her feet and sat on the rock next to her brother. "You mean Fili and Kili are the Durin's your supposed to save?"

He shrugged at his sister's questioning. It was not a light question for Omul, not one he could easily reply to. He was still grappling with the aspect of the idea of finding the dwarves he had been looking for all his life.

"And Thorin I believe. I've had dreams about them," he began, looking far off into the sunset. The orange light casted a sharp hurtful orange glow on his face, as if he was pained but revealed all at the same time. "Dreams confirming my suspicions about who I must protect. When I'm around them, the Heirs of Durin, I feel like I'm supposed to be there. Standing by and cautious of what may happen. I feel like I belong, and don't, and I feel like I'm going on the right path but I'm entirely lost."

"Are you sure it's them?" she asked, eyes intently searching her brother's face.

"As positive as I can be," He nodded solemnly as a great weight passed onto his shoulders. "I've never felt this sure in my life, Rhul and it scares me. They are prime targets to dark forces, being nobility, and I am only one Dwarf who can only do so much."

A soft breeze picked up, ruffling the grass blades around them and stirring her brother's short braids and sending a tendril of hair across her face. It was comforting to Omul, with a hint of sea salt on the breeze and it reminded him of that day he was told what he could change.

"What are you going to do about it?"

He leaned back and sheathed Kili's sword, letting the solid scabbard fall on his lap. "Take it one day at a time," he exhaled heavily. "Keep my eyes open and see what I can do."

Rhul really looked at her brother, and she admired his courage when facing the unknown. He was a strong dwarf, a leader and a true warrior at the center of his being. Their ancestors would be proud of him. "I've made the promise before," she said, hand gripping his arm tightly. "And I'll make that promise again. I will go with you every step of the way, Omul."

Omul smiled softly at his sister's surety and he gripped his sister's hand. She was his foundation which he would stand on and he was glad he had been given a second chance to spend many years with her. He knew she had his back and in turn he would protect her.

"Aren't we going the wrong way then?" she inquired, breaking the touching mood in a light teasing voice. "Are we, I mean you, supposed to stay back in the Blue Mountains? Because… I would gladly go back in a flash."

He chuckled at her eager voice. "That's not where we are supposed to be, Rhul. I have a feeling we are going in the right direction."

Suddenly, the soft twilight atmosphere was broken with the sound of a raven cawing. Rhul looked up, recognizing the call and searching for the renowned black bird. From the sky he descended, looking more haggard for wear and flapping tiredly.

"Sorc!" shouted Rhul at the sight of the raven. She bounced to her feet and held up her arm. The raven landed on it smoothly, talons gripping the leather to slow its momentum.

"You blasted bird!" she laughed, revealed to see him. "It took you nearly three weeks!"

Sorc shot her a glare with his beady black eyes and he huffed and snapped his beak. He was a large raven with blue-green-black feathers and a strong beak and talons. He had two dark silver feathers on the tips of his wings which made him distinguishable amongst most ravens. When compared to Rhul's body ratio, he was a very large bird, almost larger as some eagles, but she held him up easily on her arm.

In the second week of their stay in the Blue Mountains, Sorc had returned to Rhul while she was in the forest. She had written a letter to her father telling him of their predicament and that they would be staying for a while. She informed Osk that they had successful delivered the news of Thrain and that the Erebor-refugees here were doing well. He would be glad to know his people were flourishing, so she sent the letter off with Sorc.

Sorc was one of the few ravens that had taken refuge in other places of Middle-earth while the Mountain was occupied with a fire-breathing worm. With no King on the throne and Ravenhill in ruin the Ravens had no need to linger. So they flew about, searching for dwarves they could be of service to until the true Mountain King returned.

Rhul had the extraordinary gift of understanding Bird Speech; she was one of the only living Dwarves that could. But Omul could not understand Sorc, he was not gifted that way. She'd rescued Sorc from a trap set by a mischievous human boy about twenty years ago on one of her solo adventures and he pledged his loyalty to her. Sorc said he would always return to her with letters and news while she was away, until the day the Mountain was reclaimed or he passed on.

He crowed and chittered at her in Bird Speech, telling her that he became caught in several storms that disoriented him while flying near the pass of Moria. Rhul took his explanation for his lateness and he pulled at a cord on his leg with his beak and the letter from Osk dropped to her open palm.

"Take your rest Sorc," she said, glad her friend had returned safely. "You've done enough for now."

The raven bobbed his head and he took off to take a rest in a pine tree. He stayed close in case Rhul needed anything else at the moment. She opened the letter and read its contents.

_Good, you have arrived to the Blue Mountains swiftly. I knew my confidence was well placed when I sent you and your brother off. I must inform you that I will be gone for the next five weeks, an unexpected problem has arisen in Rohan and I have been called away to deal with it. I will hopefully be home in time, unpleasant creatures have been seen as of late and the Horse-Lords blame us for their problems. I fear our enemies are re-gathering and have only begun their attacks. _

_Send Sorc back as soon as you can, I wish to know where you are on your travels. Be careful as you come into Dunland, the Wilds have not been the same for some time. _

_Your father,_

_Osk_

Rhul read the contents again and handed it to her brother. "Read this," she said, knowing he would make more sense of it than her.

Omul read it over. He stood up and walked around their small camp, letter in hand. Pinenut watched him carefully as she munched on grass and Sorc's eyes tracked the short-haired dwarf. He stopped and turned to face his sister, a concerned look on his face. "This troubles me, there can only be one group the Rohan villages would bother to call upon father for."

"You don't think it's Orcs?" she asked, voice tight with worry.

"It can be the only explanation. The Orcs never left Moria and they have been known to stage attacks on villages and supply lines," he stopped, remembering a fact he heard before he left. "Wait a minute. When you were off gathering Kili's gift the day we left, I remember him saying that his uncle had left a day sooner for 'business' south of the Blue Mountains. I may be wrong but there can only be one sort of business that would require him to leave alone."

Rhul's eyes widened, understanding what her brother was getting at. "Sorc!" she called and the raven flew over. "Did you see any dwarves ahead of us, about a day's travel ahead?"

He chittered again, replying that he had in fact seen a hooded dwarf with profound bearing. He recognized him as Thorin Oakenshield, the legendary Exiled-King his people often spoke of.

Rhul translated it to Omul and his face tightened with worry. "This worries me. Thorin has gone searching for his father in Dunland. If the Orcs from Moria are seen wandering about than I fear for his safety."

"He's traveling alone. Much has changed in the Wilds in the last few years, he does not know of the newest dangers."

Omul huffed and walked faster around the camp, his hand planted firmly on his sword as he thought. He stopped and turned to his sister, a decision finally made. "We will catch up with him. It will be better for us and for him. Then when we arrive in Dunland we can direct him to the Outpost where he will be safer than alone as he searches for his father."

"Will we help him with his search?" she walked over to join him.

"If the need arises," he nodded.

"How will we convince him to allow us to go with him? I don't know much about Thorin, but he holds more authority than anyone else we know and he may not want us to come along."

"We'll simply catch up with him, convince him we are traveling the same way and join him on his journey until we reach Dunland," he explained. "No dwarf in their right mind would turn us away. There's safety in numbers and we know the road better than him."

"This explains why leaving now would be for the best," Rhul said with a smile and a raised eyebrow. She knew Omul always had a wicked sixth-sense for things like this. "If we hadn't who knows what would have happened."

"Or what may happen," he said gravely.

* * *

Thorin Oakenshield relished in the joy of being back on the road, to be active and not remain idle and grow fat. He was on his own personal journey looking for his father. He felt that no one else should join him, not his good colleagues Balin or Dwalin. This was his own task and since he was unsure what the outcome would bring, he felt that he should face it alone.

He currently was traveling through a forest south of the land called The Shire. Beneath the tall pines in the early afternoon shade all was serene when suddenly a large black-green raven landed on a branch in front of his path. It was not your ordinary raven and Thorin pulled on his pony's reins to look at it with squinted eyes. He could not believe what he was seeing: an Erebor Raven, a figure and a ghost of his past.

The raven croaked at him and tilted its head back and forth with intelligent eyes. It leapt from the branch swooped so low over his head Thorin had to duck to miss its talons. He turned in the saddle and watched the raven bank and turned away, harsh voice ringing in between the trees.

It had been nearly a century since he had seen one of the Ravens of old from Erebor. Thorin did not know which way to take the meaning of seeing such a bird, since the ravens return had many omens tied to them. Dwarves naturally tended to be superstitious and the sight of the old Ravens would only raise those feelings. Thorin had to steel his thoughts, doubt would not waver him now. He sent a swift kick to his pony's flanks and took off again without another look.

He'd settled in for the night when there was a commotion in the underbrush. Thorin had barely lit his pipe and lay against his bedroll when he heard the noise. He was always aware of his surroundings when he was alone and he grabbed his sword Deathless and his Oakenshield before hiding behind a tree.

Thorin slowed his breathing and listened. There were three sets of hooves, and they were the heavy treads of mountain ponies, not the normal trotting of Men's horses. Dwarves were most likely following him. He raised his sword and steeled his hand before jumping out from behind the tree with a growl. He expected bandits or thieves, even Balin and Dwalin finally tracking him down but he was not prepared for two brown and red deep hoods with Iron Hill crests staring him down. It was the Ironfoots: Omul and Rhul he had met weeks ago.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, stance dropping and facing the Ironfoots with a commanding air.

Omul dropped from his pony smoothly and grabbed the reins. "We're traveling home to the Dunland and then onward past the Gap of Rohan. This is the quickest way to accomplish that. We are the ones who did not expect to come across Thorin Oakenshield on the road."

"That is because you were not meant to," he replied moodily and stormed back to his camp. Thorin's pony looked up from where it was tethered to a tree and it greeted the three other ponies warmly as their owners followed him.

"That does not stop us from going the same way," called Omul. Thorin shot him a look and the young dwarf retorted calmly. "We know where you are going Thorin. We brought the news to you in the first place."

That stopped him short. He sighed deeply, they were right. It would be useless to send them away. They knew of his destination and they could only help him from here on out. He sheathed his sword and turned to face the young Ironfoot, resigning to what would come. "I can only assume you will be accompanying me to Dunland."

"There is strength in numbers," the lad said. "We have traveled this road many times and we know it well."

Rhul descended from her pony and she held up her arm and Sorc, the raven Thorin had seen earlier, landed on her bracer.

Thorin's eyes jumped back form the raven to the lass in front of him, his brow crinkled in question. She must have the gift of speaking Bird Speech, a rare quality for Durin's Folk. He had to shake his head at them, these Ironfoots were a mystery and they were unlike any dwarves he had met before. From what he had heard about them they were much like his nephews Fili and Kili. He knew it would not hurt to have them come along, they were well rounded dwarves who knew the on-the-road lifestyle well.

"You may join me. Up until Dunland then we will depart to our own business," he agreed.

Omul was revealed to know Thorin would not send them away. "We will not be a hindrance, I promise." After that they unsaddled their ponies for the night and set up camp on the opposite of the older dwarf.

For the next few weeks, Thorin Oakenshield allowed the Ironfoots to accompany him. They quickly proved their worth to be skillful and not naive to the dangers of the world. Omul was exceptionally sharp in his surroundings and Rhul was a magnificent navigator, together they were able to set an efficient routine.

Being young, Omul and Rhul would spar together to keep their skills up and talk together about the many things that fascinated them but their constant chatting sometimes bothered Thorin. At times he could hear them chat even when he was ahead by a couple yards and had kindly told them to shut it. Thorin could only grumble at the youth's spirits, at times he wished for a moment of quiet, obedient peace.

"Do you always travel alone?" Thorin asked one day. Earlier he had briefly told them what it was like to wonder with their people after the Lonely Mountain was sacked by Smaug.

"No. Generally we travel in groups of ten to eight, sometimes even a company of fourteen," replied the brother. "I actually prefer a group over going solo."

"It is dangerous to go alone. Especially for dwarves your age," chastised Thorin from his pony.

Omul smirked from behind the older dwarf. He had been waiting for the chastising to come from the warrior. "A fact we are fully aware of Thorin, but we have been able to hold our own before." A grunt came from Thorin in response; he wasn't entirely impressed by their skills with the blade. He doubted they would be able to hold their own against three bloodthirsty orcs.

They were nearing Bree when a massive rainstorm rolled into the area. No matter the time of year Bree rarely saw a sunny day. In the mud and muck it was miserable to travel through and Thorin wished to steer away from it.

But Omul and Rhul knew of a few dwarf traders in Bree who sold quality throwing knives. In the goblin attack Rhul lost her own knives in the skirmish and she was looking for replacements. Bree would also give them the opportunity to reshoe their pack horse. The poor animal had lost a horse shoe in a creek crossing three days before.

Thorin watched from a distance, his hood pulled tightly over his head as he observed their dealings from the doorway of the stables. In the mud, with their hoods pulled closely over their faces and Rhul's femininity disguised with her beard-scarf, they were made good progress on their bartering. From Thorin's point of view the sellers appeared to be far too shady for his liking. He preferred to distance his dealings with obscure sellers, even if they were his own people. Thorin had found that dwarves who spent time in the dealings of the world of men were more prone to greed and corruption and the sketchy black markets.

Thorin learned that the siblings were open and helpful around his people, but what he saw next surprised him greatly. The shaggy bearded dwarf seller was not settling on a fair trade, even as Omul persistently asked for a better deal. The seller wanted more than what Omul was willing to pay for the high quality knives. Thorin watched Omul's stance stiffen and become guarded and unmoving, he no longer looked like the openly trusting dwarf he had heard of.

Omul retorted in his thick Iron Hills accent with harsh words in Khuzdul, and then they finally agreed on a deal. The seller gave in when he saw the fire enter Omul's face, it actually made him laugh to see the young lad so riled up. It turned out to be a higher price than Omul originally wanted, but the deal was better than anything else they could find.

Thorin watched the hardened look on the lads face when he passed the bag of coins to the seller. His blue eyes were sharp and pinched with agitation as he pocketed the knives in his bag. The seller smiled triumphantly and he counted the coins in his fat hand, waving Omul off rudely.

There were scars in their past, Thorin realized. That would explain their dislike to trading with greedy traders and the fiery look in Omul's eyes. Thorin had also been burned by those who failed to provide help when his people needed, he knew that look of distrust well.

Soon the Misty Mountains rose into view and they were now only a few days away from the Iron Hill Outpost. The weather had cleared up and Omul was encouraged by his sister to have a knife throwing contest. To say the least, Rhul could have beaten her brother by a mile with her eyes blindfolded.

She tossed the knife hilt in her hand, a triumphant look on her face. "I've always been better with throwing and hitting things, brother. It takes skill to hit your mark and not strike it." She threw the knife at the old tree and the force from the throw sent a giant crack through the bark.

Omul gave in and he handed the rest of his throwing knives to Rhul. "It's a good thing your arm has gotten better with the sword though. Maybe soon we will be able to have a real spar."

She rolled her eyes at her brother. For the past few days they had spent their evenings training hard with their weapons, knowing Dunland would somehow require them to fight. Omul was a good teacher for Rhul, but she had evened out on her progress until Thorin stepped in and gave both of them strong tips with the sword. The raven-haired warrior even went as far as to show them new stances and let the two of them fight against him for training. They weren't able to overpower him, but Thorin was impressed with their drive to progress.

"What do you think of him?" asked Omul.

"Who?" Rhul looked over her shoulder to her brother.

"Thorin," he replied exasperatedly. He nodded towards the warrior who was a ways away smoking on his pipe. "What's your take on Thorin, Rhul? You can read people exceptionally well."

She threw another knife and went to retrieve them out of the wood. "Well, I can gather he is not a talkative dwarf. He prefers others to listen and be left alone to his own faults. He is a powerful warrior and a burdened dwarf with a heavy past. As you know, since Da has told us the stories of his oaken shield from his point of view."

She came to where Omul was lying against his saddle and she picked the wood chips out of her blades next to him. "I appreciate his calmness, battle-readiness and natural ability to lead. Though, I do believe he could lighten up a bit on his stubbornness."

"I'm with you there sister," he took a swig from his water skin and handed it to her.

"If anything, I hope he will find closure while looking for his father. I can't imagine what it would be like to suddenly know he may be alive or not, even after all this time."

Her brother hummed in response and rested his head back on the saddle. "Hopefully Da will be able to help him. And aren't you supposed to be cooking dinner?" he asked teasingly.

She hit him on the arm and Omul flinched in response. "I swear you need to pull your own weight around here Omul."

"I do, I swear it. I skinned the rabbits this time."

She scoffed and left her brother to prepare dinner.

* * *

_The Long Road Home – vol. 2 December: 10 years ago_

_We have arrived safely to Dain's strong hold with more than we first estimated. Surprisingly this time we did not lose too many of our big horns on this journey. Mother is excited; she knows how Dain likes her rams for the breeding seasons. The more that survived the stronger the war rams will be. _

_I don't believe I have written about my family's relationship with Dain the dwarf-lord of the East. Lain knew Dain before he became a dwarf-lord and they were good friends in their younger years. When she came across wanders from Erebor who had survived the Battle of Azanulbizar and had become separated from Thorin Oakenshild (Dain's Cousin) she asked Dain if they would be able to allow them refugee in the Iron Hills. _

_Dain had provided what he could for Erebor's people when they were first chased from the Mountain, but he could not house the remaining thousand in his strong hold. He listened to Lain and allowed them to come and stay. That is how mother met our father Osk, he was one of the survivors from the battle. He was on Thrain's royal guard before he disappeared and helped with the Burned Dwarf services on the battlefield. Lain was drawn to our father, how I still am not sure. _

_Time has passed and we have kept a healthy relationship with Dain. Osk loves the Iron Hills and he gladly orchestrates much trade for them. Lain is a master breeder of war rams and for a time she even kept a few war boars for Dain, and he gladly bought up the whole herd to use in battle. _

_In time, the Iron Hills saw what Dain saw in Lain's family and they accepted us in. The Ironfoots are strict about staying in one place and raising a family in a strong hold, which is why they never liked the fact that my family lived in the Misty Mountains. I grew up among the cliffs, peaks, and rivers and not the halls of stone or behind iron gates. Now we are seen as equals and a great asset to the economy in the Iron Hills. _

_I am looking forward to meeting Dain in person. I hear he is a blood thirsty Dwarf with some of the best battle stories to be told. Mother says even with his fiery personality, he has a caring and loyal heart._

* * *

**I really liked writing about Sorc. He's my own OC and he is a relative to Roac from the book. Omul and Rhul are really growing on me too, I love writing about their relationship and it will only continue to go deeper into their pasts. So, Omul is worried about the orcs nearing Dunland and what dangers they will prove to Thorin. He has good reason to be worried because Azog is on the prowl and he will soon be asking for Thorin's head. **

**Read on! And Review, my sister and I work hard on this and would love to hear your thoughts. **


	8. Father Searching & Brother Teasing

**2,000 views! Another milestone hit for this story! And welcome 4 new followers to the crew. Also thank you to readergirl4985 and beccy26o9 for your reviews, I loved them.**

**After this chapter, the story takes a cinematic turn for action (I promise!) and more time jumps. By the end of this chapter it will be about 14 months till the Quest begins. If my timeline is correct, so act excited! **

**Now welcome another supporting character and the famous Iron Hill Outpost! ...(plus a Fili POV)**

* * *

**Chapter 8: Father Searching &amp; Brother Teasing**

* * *

"This is where we depart," said Omul astride his pony. Pinenut groaned for no reason and bent her head to rip at the lush green grass on the path. Spurt shook her shaggy mane and huffed at Sorc who decided her head was a wonderful resting post and the mellow pack pony watched the world with soft brown eyes. Thorin's pony flipped its mane and grunted, rubbing the bit between its teeth. They had risen before first light and were on the trail just as the first rays of light were coloring the sky above the Misty Mountains.

The hills of Dunland lay before them. Woodlands stretched from around the village and up the mountain sides to where it hit the slopes in the colors of mid-summer. The road was rocky and not very visible because the Wild Men who lived there had simple and barbaric lives and visitors seldom visited. Dunland was not the ideal place for Men of good values. The Wild Men's village was secluded, in bad shape and frequently attacked by Wargs and the Rohirrim. But if one was to travel a little further on a different path, they would come across the Dwarves from several of Durin's Houses in the hills. Being neighbors the Dwarves and Men of Dunland had no dealings with each other and they preferred to stay apart. And in the end that was the best thing for everybody.

Omul had clarified to Thorin that Dunland was where the first rumors of Thrain originated. The Wilds around the area were renowned for catching travelers or escapees by surprise and finding themselves suddenly lost. Omul didn't know the exact location to look for Thrain but he gave Thorin the general idea where to begin his search.

"Thorin, I wish you the best of luck there," Omul called after his retreating form.

"I do not need your words of encouragement, Omul," the raven haired warrior cuttingly called back.

"What about a warm welcome? Fresh supplies, a new pony, and a dwarf who can lead you exactly where you need to go?" recommended Omul. "There are many dwarves at the Outpost who would look forward to your coming. You would have a far better reception than dealing with the Wild Men."

Sorc squawked and Thorin picked up on the bird's words – since he was Heir to the Throne he could understand him. He said at the Outpost they would be closer to the area Thrain's garment was found, where the evidence would be fresher. Thorin already had his mind set but as much as he disliked agreeing with the lad (and the raven) he knew he would be better off with help and fresh supplies.

He _harrumphed _and yanked on his pony's reins and turned the mount around. "How far away is this delay?"

"Half a day's ride over the point of the mountain," supplied Omul. "Sorc can fly ahead and inform them we are coming."

"That won't be necessary," said Thorin, picking up pace. "We'll make the journey in less than the required time."

His pony took off with a kick to the sides and the animal entered a fast trot. It was still early morning and they could make good time if they hurried. Omul and Rhul shared a look communicating that they knew Thorin was getting anxious. They sensed Thorin knew he was failing in life if he didn't do something about the problem of the Throne's unknown future or the Mountain's wealth.

"How do you think Da would react if Thorin Oakenshield suddenly walked in without a word's notice?" asked Omul.

"Like any dwarf when a renowned dwarf walks through your door, completely overjoyed, but angry at them since they didn't send word ahead," said Rhul. " I know I would be caught unprepared especially if it was a long-time friend."

"Hurry up, daylight is wasting." Thorin called from ahead.

They spurred their ponies into action and Rhul sent Sorc off. She hadn't instructed him to inform Osk they would be returning but she knew he would get the message when he saw the familiar raven. Then at least he would be somewhat ready when royalty walked in through their door.

"Hopefully father will be back by now," she thought, thinking back to his letter she received a while ago. She hadn't heard back from him about his dealings in Rohan with the Orcs.

They began their ascent with Omul in the lead and Thorin in the back. In a few hours the Iron Hill Outpost appeared from behind a grouping of hills. Nestled along the slopping knolls of the detached peaks of the Misty Mountains the Outpost stood as a reminder that Dwarves lived in a secret society. To the wondering eye it appeared as a grouping of small buildings with little interest, but a frequent visitor knew better. It was a welcoming sign to the weary group of travelers.

The Iron Hills settlement had a straight cleared path over the hills that followed the creek bed. The settlement had a few storage houses in the simple-fashioned style of stone shapes. They came up the road and stopped in front of the house where the ponies took a drink from the trough there. A dwarf with a well-kept orange beard peered from the window when he heard the jingles of horse gear and Omul gave him a friendly gesture with his arm and a welcome in Khuzdul.

The short haired lad threw back his hood and dismounted to talk with the gatekeeper who was a good friend of his. Thorin kept his hood pulled low over his eyes. He did not want to reveal his presence yet.

"Master Omul," the neat dwarf greeted. "Welcome! Welcome! It's been a while since we've seen you here laddie."

Rhul leaned back in the saddle next to Thorin and she let out an exasperated sigh at her brother. Sometimes he enjoyed chatting more than Dwarrows in a dress shop. Thorin understood perfectly, Dis tended to be like that at times, and he took the moment to look around at the Outpost.

It wasn't what he imagined it to be. It was small and not the fortified village built to withstand any skirmish he was told of. There were no traders or skilled craftsman about, not even the usual messenger or study ponies. He only spied an old mule tied to a fence with a flea bitten back. Rhul had said there were a reasonable amount of Dwarves stationed here with wagons, ponies and rams at their disposal.

The gatekeeper walked with Omul as they quickly discussed about the new trading opportunities in the West. They arrived at a great slap of gray stone behind the front building. Great gouges marked the wall and chiseled dwarves in the surface greeted them when they drew near. If Thorin was to guess, he would say they were standing in front of a great Dwarf Door.

Rhul picked up her brother's reins and she led Pinenut and the pack pony towards the barrier. Thorin followed suit and he paused when a short horn blast rent the air. The stone wall split right down the middle with a giant crack and the sound of heavy hinges grounding together. The Dwarf Doors opened revealing the secrets it kept hidden behinds its door. Thorin was impressed, Dwarf Door were not easy works of masonry. It was not the fabled hidden doors that could only be opened certain times of the year or with a password under the moonlight.

The village was tucked away in a secure rocky outcrop that encircled it on three sides, the fourth side leading to the steep mountain grade. Pillars of short statues lined the road for the first few yards. They were fashioned after the Ironfoot culture, cut stone lined with cured cast iron trimming. Two war rams stood next to a pair of fierce looking dwarves with their battle helmets and Mohawk attachments and battle-hardened faces. They stood as a reminder that the Iron Hills were always ready for battle.

Beyond that cold braziers lined the roads that branched off towards the storehouses, homes, and few shops. An armory with a busy blacksmith next to it clanged away on one side and in the corner a pen of big horns, goats, and ponies grazed on the fresh grass next to a mountain spring. The tavern inn's doors stood open and chatter drifted out from inside. Two big dogs lounged in the shade of the porch roof, they thick heads watching the newcomers with interest.

A group of dwarves milling about recognized Omul and they greeted the young warrior with gusto. He returned their favor and promised them they would have a drink later before arriving at the house. The house was built low with stone supports and a dirt roof half way into the rocky outcrop. It was rectangle in shape like the other homes and it was located near to the animal pen and adjacent barn.

Thorin dismounted and so did Rhul. She glanced about with her hands on her hips and a big smile on her face. She was so glad to finally be in a familiar area after months of living on the road. Spurt stiffened and the black pony stepped back when an unfamiliar scent reached her, followed by a joyous barking.

Thorin reached for his sword _Deathless _at the noise but he paused when he spotted the giant gray and fluffy dog barreling for Rhul. She barely had enough time to drop to one knee before her puppy Jackson crashed into her. The big and floppy paws of the three-year old mixed breed pup pushed her over and he licked her face excitedly.

"Jackson! Down boy!" she shouted and the dog jumped back and obediently sat down, his tail wagging so fast it was about to fall off.

Thorin watched the encounter with amusement. He never cared for the responsibility of taking care of a pet. Most dwarves didn't own hunting dogs or other pets and if they did it was either the strong breeds that could last any hardship or pull a cart if the need be. The mix in front of him still had him wary because it struck him with the characteristics of a Warg pup. Jackson's shoulders came up to his hip and it had a boxy head with a long muzzle and sharp clipped, floppy ears.

A deep throated chuckle came from the doorway of the house and a dwarf with a dark beard and blonde haired stepped into the yard. He had his hands on his belt and a heavy axe hanging off his back. Thorin recognized the sharp green-blue eyes and the confident stance of his friend. This was Osk, a dwarf he knew long ago before he became Thorin Oakenshield and when he was still young and the hurt of losing Erebor still festered in his heart. This was a dwarf he had escaped Erebor with when Smaug's flames and shoot covered the elders and billowed out of the broken gate.

"He's missed you Rhul," Osk said, eyes landing on his daughter. "Though I'm afraid he has gained some weight while you were away. Nasty thing it is, stress-eating."

Rhul grabbed her dog by the flap of his cheeks, looking him over, turning his head this way and that. "Why did you let that happen? He can barely run!" she exclaimed, feeling the rolls beneath her fingers. Jackson ignored her fussing and he whined excitedly. She rubbed her hands down his flanks and she found she couldn't feel his ribs anymore, even with his summer coat.

Osk shrugged his shoulders, indifferent about his daughter's complaint. There were a few dwarves that worked with the butchers who were soft on Jackson and they would frequently slip him extra shares of meat or the juicy hides of cows and pigs. When Rhul was away he was always upset and resulted to eating more than his fair share of food.

"Osk, allow me to introduce you to Thorin Oakenshield," said Omul. "He is in need of assistance to look in the Wilds."

Thorin stepped forward with measured footsteps and he threw his hood off in a slightly dramatic fashion. Though Osk knew him when he was younger, the burdened face with the short kept beard and long raven-black hair was a familiar face. He had seen this dwarf in the heat of battle and chaos, Thorin was a darer, a natural leader and a dwarf he gladly called friend.

"Thorin Oakenshield, it is an honor," Osk gave Thorin a respectful bow. "What brings you to the Iron Hill Outpost?"

"I received your letter. I was told you had news of my father, Thrain."

"Sadly it is not as solid as I wished it were," confessed Osk. "Come, there is plenty of food and enjoy our ale. There is much to talk about and I will gladly answer any questions you have. Stay here, rest for a few days and I will aide you in your search."

Thorin inclined his head politely and he followed Osk inside.

Omul and Rhul were dog-tired and wanted nothing better than a hot meal and a place to rest but they knew to give the older dwarves their space. They undid the saddle bags and cleaned their tackle after brushing down the ponies and letting them loose in the animal pen. Jackson circled Rhul the entire time and he constantly sniffed the new ponies to the point where Thorin's just about kicked him in the head. By the time they were done, dusk was falling and they went straight to their rooms to change out of their old traveling jackets and clothes.

Osk thankfully had dinner prepared so Rhul didn't have to do any more cooking. They sat down and enjoyed their stew while they listened to the deep voices of the warriors conversing near the fireplace.

"I take it you will want to hear what I have to say about the Battle of Azanulbizar?" asked Osk. Thorin nodded and he drew a deep breath on his pipe.

"I took the oath of a dying dwarf to protect Thrain on his personal guard force. Even though I was young and could have stayed back with the caravans, I traveled to the battlefield where I fought for my life, as you did with Dwalin and the others. When the great Pale Orc – that scum! – killed your grandfather, I had Thrain in my sights. I watched him lead the charge to the Dimrill Gate with the dwarves he could gather. Thrain was pursued Azog and they faced down. His mattock was bashed away and the great beast loomed over him."

"He is dead then?" concluded Thorin.

Osk shook his head gravely. "No, he did not die on the battlefield. I could not see what Azog did to him but Thrain was surrounded and carried away, unconscious."

"Alive?"

"Aye, after the battle the guard was able to track a pack of Orcs. We believed they held him captive. We followed their movements east till we entered the real of the old fortress on the edge of Mirkwood. After than we could not find him anymore," Osk leaned back and sighed, looking defeated. "I searched with the remaining guard, but we were attacked by Wargs consistently and storms prevented us from catching up with the caravan. We were weeded out but I kept searching. You must realize Thorin that I have looked everywhere; I was loyal to your father and to you. I knew I couldn't return without any word of his condition. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I found the scrap of fabric I sent you."

"Where did you find it?" asked Thorin.

"Not far from here, it was hanging off a bush with a trail of warg tracks in the mud. After all this time, it can only mean he is _still_ alive."

Thorin folded his arms over his broad chest and he thought about the possibilities. They sat in silence for a time, the only sound coming from the kitchen where Omul and Rhul conversed quietly. Both dwarves looked over and watched the siblings laugh together in the kitchen. Rhul had her beautiful dark blonde hair pulled up with a tight string, locks of hair falling around her ears and her eyes sparkled with happiness. Omul grinned and he looked at his sister with the only type of love a brother could have and his weathered eyes crinkled with mirth.

A smile found itself on Osk's face and he could only thank the ancestors that he was given two magnificent children. They were intelligent and young, free from the burdens of anger and loss he carried in his heart. He saw them as the new hope and he had the uttermost confidence in them.

Thorin found himself thinking about his nephews. Their loyalty and love to him was very precious to him and he wouldn't trade it for anything. With his time spent with the Stonehide's he knew them to be valuable dwarves to any quest. They had proved to him over and over again that they were capable of much, like Fili and Kili.

"I was told you helped construct this place," Thorin said after a moment of peace.

"Aye, I had a hand in it. But it came about at the request of my wife Lain and her interactions with Dain, your cousin," said Osk.

"What are your dealings here?" asked Thorin. "Do you specialize in commerce?"

"Aye we do. We are somewhat a coordinator of the affairs of Dwarves in these lands. Dain was worried he was becoming to disconnected from the other Families and he'd like to remind them that the Iron Hills still hold true to their wealth and famous Army. In a lot of ways, we are the bridging point for many dwarves in this area."

Osk only told Thorin parts of what had happened to him after the battle of Moria. When they could not find Thrain they returned to the task of watching over the Burned Dwarf pyres. It was a sorrowful moment for them, they had stood on the slopes of Azanulbizar with the blood drying thick to the stone and the raw grief of the fruitless victory. Thorin had led their people away to the south when they arrived and they knew they would not be able to catch up. From then, as winter was beginning to settle they tried for the Iron Hills.

Dain welcomed their small group after hearing of the horrors on the fields before Moria. In the Iron Hills Osk came across his One, a beautiful lass with brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. Osk and Lain were married and they stayed there for a time until they had their first child, Omul. Lain had developed a large wealth with her pure-bred rams and they had it well with the Ironfoots. But Osk was an Erebor dwarf and he longed to live closer to his people in the Blue Mountains. He wanted to start a trading post south of the Misty Mountains where it would be of great benefit to Dain and the other dwarvish settlements.

Rhul was born and Osk's family spent their time moving about, enjoying the change of landscape and making profits in the Iron Hills or other kingdoms. They lived dangerous lives, always on edge of the unknown with no strong hold, but Osk was experienced and they quickly became a different breed of dwarf. Now Lain had moved back to the Iron Hills and Osk was planning on following her soon after, he was tired of the uncertain lifestyle and he wished for something more solid.

But like every dwarf, they longed for their true home of Erebor.

* * *

In a few days, Osk had arranged for them to head into the Wilds and search for Thrain. Omul would accompany them along with another dwarf who Osk knew to be a great tracker.

Time quickly passed as they search drew longer with no sign of Thrain. The trails had long since gone dry and they were only pulling at guesses where he could be. Thorin accepted the truth that his father would forever be missing, but he knew he had to at least try.

Winter was drawing close and Thorin spent his time in the inn writing letters and fighting the feeling of searching eyes on his back. He had seen shadows in the woods and they put him on edge. He finally called off the searches when Durin's Day passed and he left to the White Mountains to conduct business with his kin.

In the meantime while their father was busy with helping Thorin, Omul and Rhul were left to their own devices. Omul continued to train hard with his swords and he focused on his skills Kili taught him. Before Thorin left he would watch Omul fight his father. Thorin was impressed with the few warriors at the Outpost. They would be reliable dwarves in any skirmish or battle.

Omul never told anyone, but he was preparing for what might come to pass. His dreams he had so long ago kept coming to mind, reminding him that he one day may have to fight for his life in defense of the Line of Durin.

Rhul kept Sorc busy with letters to the Iron Hills or the Blue Mountains. The Erebor Raven even called in one of his friends to help with the important messages she was sending because he could only travel so far. Rhul wrote to her mother, asking her about what it meant to find her One and telling her of her feelings. She received over jubilant letters from Lain who couldn't believe her daughter had found a nice dwarf in the Blue Mountains. When prompted what Fili was like, Rhul could only reply that she didn't know. She only knew him for a few short minutes but she could never stop thinking about him.

She also made sure to write to Dis as promised.

Winter passed away slowly with the long and cold months freezing the Outpost. Trade slowed and the dwarves spent their time working with the silver they earned and other crafts. In their downtime, no wargs or thieves attacked, but spring would bring about an unpleasant surprise.

* * *

High in the clouds, traveling fast on a stream of warm air, Sorc flew across the land with the letters in his carrying canister on his back. His sharp eyes tracked the landscape until where the plateau of mountain peaks rose up from the rainy landscapes of the Greenway. The Blue Mountains welcomed him with their ice-capped peaks and snowy valleys. It was a place he had frequently visited over the last couple of months, and he knew the flight path well.

The raven tucked in his wings and entered a dive, feeling the rush of late winter air swarm around him. Houses covered in snow with huge banks on either sides of the door rapidly came into view and he pulled out of the dive to swoop in-between the smoke stacks with a caw.

Huri and his family were coming in from a sleigh ride in the forest. Bazik was desperately trying to keep the two young twins, Umik and Bumik from jumping into the slushy snow and throwing snowballs at their sister Haz who complained bitterly about her frozen braids. Hazdor rode on the front seat with his father, axe in hand and hood up to miss the onslaught of snow. Huri chatted with Boruk who rode next to them on a shaggy pony, oblivious to the commotion behind him.

Sorc croaked at them in salutation, but his master's friends paid little attention to him. He landed on a tree branch, sending the snow cascading to the ground. He planned it perfectly and it swamped the rowdy twin dwarves in their seat. They cheered from beneath snow, only their mittens and promise bracelets visible. Sorc used his advantage point to gather his bearings.

Next to the Front Gates, the forges billowed steam into the air in huge white plums that resembled a dragons breath. The late winter sun was setting and a group of dwarves were exiting the hot forges. Sorc's sharp eyes searched the doors and he quickly spotted a head of golden hair exiting with a dark-haired dwarf on the other's right.

He flew over and he greeted the two princes. Sorc landed on a post next to them and swept into a bow before presenting the letter that was tied to his back.

"Who is that Fili?" asked Kili. He had never seen the raven with the dark silver wingtips before. And ravens usually didn't communicate with him on a daily basis.

"It's a letter Kili," Fili stepped forward and untied the letter casing and Sorc shook his wings when he was free of the weight. "From our friends the Ironfoots," he informed his brother, examining the pressed leather and red markings.

"When have they ever been able to afford a homing pigeon?" Kili asked skeptically, pointing at the bird. Sorc snapped his beak at the offending finger and the archer drew back his hand with a hiss.

"This isn't any old raven. It's an Erebor Raven of old,"

"Balin said they had gone missing, and how would you know that?"

Fili smiled and he shook the canister's contents into his open palm. "He told me so," he said, referring to Sorc. The letters in his hand were addressed to Dwalin, Dis, and Kili.

"Ah, this is how we've been able to get replies so quickly," Kili said, peaking over his brother's shoulder. "Who are they addressed to?"

"One is for you," he handed it to his brother and Kili opened the rolled piece of parchment. Fili grabbed his satchel from over his shoulder and placed the two letters inside but he did not notice the well-worn journal flop into the snow.

"What's this?" Kili bent down to pick the book up before Fili could even have the chance to retrieve it. "_The Long Road Home Volume 2: The Journey of Rhul." _

"Give it Kili," commanded Fili. He straightened his coat and stood up, facing his taller brother.

Kili danced away from his brother's hands and he snickered at his brother's offending face. "So this is the book you've been hiding from me all these months? Where did you get this journal? The sketches and wording in here could even rival Ori's."

"Kili," he brother began with a stern voice when he wasn't giving it to him.

Kili had side-stepped away and he faced his brother, realization on his face. "Rhul, as in Omul's sister. Rhul is the dwarrowdam you've taken a liking to! All those questions months ago make sense now! You feel something for her!"

Fili snatched away the journal, his ears red. "That is none of your concern. I found the journal near the Wet Caves where they were attacked and did not have the opportunity to give it back to her. Besides I only knew her for a couple of minutes, nothing happened beyond that."

Kili folded his arms over his chest on eyebrow cocked at his red-faced brother. "Why else would you completely ignore Thuri and she be in a raging fit? Why else do you continue to read the journal? I see the dog-ears and the well-worn pages, you're learning about her aren't you?" he pointed a finger at his brother, and Fili's face took on a determined scowl. "I was there, I saw the look in your eyes when you first laid eyes on her. And I have a good idea what happened between you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Fili replied stiffly and walked off.

"You might as well write her!" he called after his brother. Kili laughed when Fili shot him a glare and probably an unkind word under his breath in Khuzdul. Sorc cocked his head and watched the brothers, a silent laugh in his gaze.

"And does she return the favor Master Raven?" asked Kili, his voice light and teasing.

Sorc only gave him a look before taking off. Kili took it as the answer yes.

Fili was fuming at his brother's teasing, which was unusual for him. He couldn't explain why it had bothered him so bad. He had to admit, since that day back in May, he knew he felt something when he first laid eyes on Rhul. For the first couple of weeks it was so intense, it nearly drove him crazy with the longing. The only times he was able to break away from it was when he was training til his arms were about to fall off or he was going to collapse in the dirt.

It was love he knew. His mother had confronted him about, asking him if he was finally seeing something in Thuri or another dwarrow. Thankfully it wasn't Thuri but Rhul who had his interest.

Now his desire and burning feelings had reduced to a great admiration of the dwarrow. All he knew about her was what he could pry from his brother and the words she wrote in her journal. He admired the dwarrow in the pages, her bravery and kindness and view on the world. It was relaxing to read a book that was meant to be read and explain someone's life in such detail it felt like he was going through it himself.

He understood her longing and the call of home she frequently spoke off. He noticed she cared greatly for her brother and would often write her worries about him without any explanation to why she was worried.

He was learning about her, but he quickly realized he _knew _nothing about her. He had no memories, besides the day she left and the many times he was told about her from his mother or brother.

It was as if he was reading about the great heroic deeds his ancestors did and admiring them as heroes. He grew close to their words, but he would never know what they really were like until he actually met them. Words, in a way, were deceitful but also truthful.

What could he do? He was heir to the throne and he wasn't allowed to dream about possibilities when she was no longer in his sights. He asked his mother once if it were possible to meet your One and then be forever separated. She had laughed and said that it was possible to be separated, but when you found your One it was impossible to stay away. Dwarves who had found their match would eventually drift together again, even if it may be half a life time of waiting. Fate could not keep them apart forever while they both still lived.

Fili had to agree. He only hoped that she would return soon.

* * *

In the midst of a snow fall, when the world was quiet and freezing beneath the new moon, a single Orc Rider prowled through the night. The furs of a bear skin were pulled tight around his dark, decaying face and his sharp prying yellow eyes sliced through the dim light. Below him the Iron Hill Outpost glowed with the torchlight in the snow like a cooling ember. The orc was able to make out the buildings and the dwarves who staggered drunkenly in the snow with their terrible voices raised to the sky in song.

The warg growled menacingly, sharp fangs catching the dim torchlight. It was finished with their patrol and wished to return to the warm, smelly caves were the rest of the pack was.

"Return," the rider commanded in Black Speech. The warg jumped into a loping stride, easily breaking through the snow banks with its narrow chest. The orc kept its yellow eyes on the Outpost, watching for anything unusual as they descended down the mountain side.

He pulled sharply on his warg's scruff, sending the animal to a skidding halt. The warg growled at him in its own native tongue but the orc paid no mind to its cruel words. They were hidden from view in the trees and the dwarves with their poor eyesight would not see them. A strong dwarf with profound bearing left the tavern and headed to another building, his eyes were cast low and hood pulled high. But the oaken shield hidden under the flap of his coat was all the orc needed to see to know exactly who he might be.

A growl ripped through his chest, low and rumbling and he drew in a deep breath of air with excitement.

He relished in the thrill of the coming hunt. The Pack wouldn't be able to attack until spring when the snows started to melt, and it also meant the dwarves would not be able to leave. He had watched them long enough to know the Ironfoots would stay put until the roads cleared up. It would give them plenty of time to stage an attack.

If the dwarf he saw was the notorious Thorin Oakenshield, Azog would certainly be pleased.

The Orc kicked his wargs sides and they raced away with the cunning purpose of foul things.

* * *

**This chapter was giving me grief but hopefully you enjoyed it. **

**I'm explaining a few events dealing with that flash-back in DOS and Azog's claim on Thorin's head in these recent chapters. It's figures of my own imagination because I want to explore all parts of The Hobbit trilogy. (Just wait until BOTFA, it'll be awesome.)**

**Also I've finally been able to introduce Jackson (named after the legendary Peter Jackson) to you! And I hope you liked the little about him as much as I did. He will be back and will play a role on the Quest in the future. Every character I insert plays a role in this story, remeber that.**

**Please leave a review if you liked this chapter or have any questions/concerns. They feed my motivation. :) **

**Thanks,**

**KeepingThemAtBay.**


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